Something There
by angel of moozik
Summary: Harry meets Hermione, a muggle dentist on a night out. They grow close, but Harry soon notices things about her that suggest that although she doesn't know it, she might not be a muggle after all.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, this is my new fic. I had this idea a while ago, but never thought I'd actually write it properly. I was struck by inspiration today though so here's the first chapter. I don't know when the next update will be because I've got four essays in over the next two weeks. Maybe it was a bad idea to start a new story now. Oh well.**

**Oh, and if you like this, or even if you don't like it but you liked Friends Reunited or one of my other fics, why not follow me on twitter? I plan to post updates on how the writing's going, and my number of followers is pretty pathetic! Just search for ruthydoops.**

**That's enough of me for now, except to just provide a translation for any American readers. A cashpoint is an ATM. I'm not sure if you have "cashpoints" over there, so I just thought I'd say now!**

**Ok, here we go. Review if you like it, which I hope you will!

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**"So, last pub of the night," Harry announced loudly to his friends as he slammed a round of drinks onto the table, making them slosh all over his hands. He wiped them on his trousers and turned to Dean. "Have you had a good night?"

"Yeah," Dean hiccupped. "I feel much better about turning twenty-one now. You know, it's not that scary after all!"

Harry smiled at him. Dean had spent at least the past month dreading his birthday, which had made it very difficult for Harry, as it had been his turn to organise the celebrations. Whenever he'd talked to him about it, Dean had insisted that he wanted to stay inside and pretend it wasn't happening. Luckily, they'd managed to drag him out after convincing him they'd get him so drunk he wouldn't even remember what they were celebrating. He seemed to be well on his way to that point, swaying in his seat and laughing at everything.

"See? Didn't we tell you?" George laughed. "You don't feel any different to yesterday, do you?"

"Well, I feel more drunk than I did yesterday," Dean said, "but that's not a bad thing by any means! Hey Harry, do you know, you look like you've had an accident?"

"What?" Harry said, looking down at his lap. "Oh, that's where I spilled your drinks all over myself."

"Doesn't look like drink to me, mate," Seamus laughed.

"Well next time I won't be such a good friend and struggle back from the bar with all your drinks by myself," Harry joked. "You'll all have accidents yourselves if you carry on laughing like that."

"To be fair, it's pretty funny," Ron said, wiping his streaming eyes. "Or maybe I've had a few too many. I'll never understand how I can drink so much firewhiskey and be fine, and then a couple of pints, and I'm like this."

Harry rolled his eyes, and the others seemed to be holding back laughter. Ron was always hopeless at handling his drink, whatever it was. His birthday had ended with him being apparated home by a very tipsy Dean and the two of them passing out in his garden. Luckily, Harry was living with Dean now, as the only two single friends in their group, so he could keep an eye on where he went to sleep when they went home.

"Make sure I get to my bed tonight won't you Harry?" Dean asked, smirking at Ron.

"I was just thinking that! I will, don't you worry," Harry laughed. "You'll be asleep on the pavement otherwise."

"Can I crash at yours too if you don't mind?" Ron asked. "I don't think Lav'll be too happy if I go home in this state."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said. "We can transfigure the sofa for you again if you want. Or Harry can anyway!"

"Have you got room for me too?" George asked quietly. "Angelina doesn't like it when I drink and I've had more than I was planning on."

Harry and Dean looked at each other. They usually had a strict one guest at a time rule because their flat was so small. They could make an exception for George though. He and Angelina had got together because of their closeness to Fred, but it turned out that was all they really had in common, and it wasn't really enough to build their relationship on. Even though friends of both of them had tried to point out that maybe it wasn't working, they weren't having any of it and had stayed together for just over two years. The two of them got into huge rows almost daily though, and if they could stop just one of them, then that was a good reason for Harry and Dean to break their rule.

"Yeah, of course. You'll have to share a bed with Ron though I'm afraid," Harry said.

Ron pretended to make a disgusted face. "Pillow wall?" he asked.

"Definitely," George said, looking a bit happier. "And try not to snore tonight. You'll make the whole building shake!"

"Well, I'm going to go back to my missus tonight," Seamus said. "She's been on a girl's night out, so she'll be in the same state as me, and you know what that means!"

"Ugh, I don't want to think of you and Luna doing that, no offence," Harry laughed. "I can't even imagine her drunk to be honest! Is...is Ginny on this girl's night out by any chance?"

"We're not talking about her," Dean butted in. "You know the rules! No moping about ex-girlfriends! Seamus, get us another round? And bring us back some shots. We need to perk this one up!"

"I don't need perking up!" Harry said, folding his arms. "I was just wondering."

"If I clear this up and tell you, will you cheer up?" Ron asked.

"I don't need to cheer up. Honestly, I'm fine," Harry said. He was fine. Even though he and Ginny had had a huge row and she'd kicked him out of the Burrow and then got together with Michael Corner practically straight away, he didn't really have any ill-feeling toward her. He knew it was strange, but he couldn't find it in himself to get worked up over it. Maybe deep down he knew it was never going to work, or maybe he was just an Ice King, or whatever the male equivalent of an Ice Queen was, but he really didn't mind. What he did mind was when Ron and George kept feeling sorry for him.

"If you're sure," Ron said uncertainly.

"I am," Harry said. "I know it's weird, but I don't mind that your sister has got a new boyfriend. Let's just leave it and have a good rest of the night, yeah?"

Seamus came back and took great care not to wipe his hands on his trousers, looking pointedly and smirking at Harry as he did so. He laughed. He was so glad the four of them had stayed best friends since school ended; they'd practically been inseparable while they were there. Then Ron had brought George out one night because he thought it was time he started mixing with people again and they'd had a really good time. Since then, the five of them, plus Lavender, Luna and sometimes, but very rarely Angelina had all done nearly everything together. He looked around at the other groups of friends sitting in the pub and although he'd never say it out loud; it sounded far too cheesy, he thought that his group of friends was so much better than any of the others.

"Harry's staring at girls," Ron teased.

Harry came back to his senses and realised he's been staring at a group of three rather pretty girls: a blonde, and two brunettes, one with a sleek bob and one with long curly hair.

"Don't scare them, Harry," George laughed.

"Who's he looking at? Are any of them fit?" Seamus asked. "What?" he asked, laughing, "I'm looking on behalf of two of my best friends who need some nice girls."

"One of them's my dentist," Dean slurred, swinging himself around on his chair. "The one with the curly hair."

"She's very pretty, isn't she?" Harry asked.

"I guess she's ok," Dean shrugged. "I'm so scared of the dentist I've never really looked!"

"Ok," Seamus said. "So Harry's getting the curly haired one because he thinks she's pretty."

"Her name's Hermione," Dean butted in.

"Right, so Harry's getting Hermione."

"Wow, try saying that when you're drunk," George laughed.

"And who's Dean going to go for?" Seamus asked.

"None of them! Think of what would happen if it didn't work. She'd pull all my teeth out."

They all laughed. They knew Dean was scared of the dentist and anything to do with teeth. He was probably more scared of being checked out by the Medi-witches when they'd come back from their year of Horcrux hunting than he'd been when they'd actually been practically facing Voldemort.

"Fair enough. We know what you're like," George said.

"So that just leaves Harry and Her-mi-on-e," Ron said, slowing down her name so he could say it. "Go and talk to her!"

"And don't say her name like that," George teased.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked. "I'm not going to talk to her."

"Why not?" Seamus asked. "You like her, don't you?"

"I think she's pretty," Harry said, his cheeks turning red. "That's not the same thing."

"It kind of is," Dean said. "Come on! You get attention from girls all the time: you're the Boy Who Lived! Or the Man Who Lived now."

"You have no say in this, you wimp! I can't just go up and talk to her. And she's probably a muggle!"

"What's wrong with that? My dad was a muggle," Seamus said.

"And look how well that turned out," Harry muttered under his breath so Seamus wouldn't hear. "I can't talk to her."

"You know what?" Ron said with a smirk. "I think this is all because you're not over my sister."

Catching on to what Ron was doing, George nodded. "Yeah, that must be it. You don't want to talk to any other girls because you still love Ginny."

"That's not going to work," Harry said firmly.

"Well, that's ok. We understand. I mean, you insist you don't care, but we know you better than that."

"I don't still love your sister!"

"If only there was some way to prove it," Ron said, stroking his chin in an exaggerated way.

"Fine," Harry said, standing up. "I'll do it, just so you two stop pestering me."

Hermione was on her own at the bar, which Harry thanked all the Gods for. He would've hated to have to talk to her in front of her friends. That would've been embarrassing. He was swaying and stumbling slightly, and the walk to the bar seemed to be taking ages. He hoped he wouldn't drunkenly ramble on at her. Not that it mattered if he did, seeing as he didn't want it to go anywhere and he was only doing it to shut his so-called friends up. He put a hand up to his head. If he was rambling away in his mind, he had no hope.

"Hi," he said, finally reaching the bar. "Having a good night?"

She smiled at him, surely a sign that he was doing well so far.

"Yeah, I am thanks. I just came out with my friends to celebrate one of them getting promoted."

"Ah, cool. It's one of my friend's birthdays," he said, gesturing behind him at the area they were sitting in.

"Oh, how old is he?" she asked.

"Twenty-one," he replied.

"That's a scary birthday," she laughed. "My twenty-first was back in September. I'm not usually a big drinker, but I made an exception for that one night. It felt like the end of the world. Or at least the end of being young and carefree anyway!"

"Yeah, I think he's feeling a bit like that. Or he was, anyway. After a few drinks he seems to be feeling a lot happier about it."

She laughed again and with a polite 'excuse me' turned to pay the barman.

She really was very pretty, Harry thought. Her hair was gorgeous, and her eyes were deep and brown and set on pale, smooth skin. She didn't seem to be wearing a lot of makeup, which he liked; Ginny never did either. She had a really nice smile as well; her plump pink lips parting to show straight white teeth. Then he realised he was staring again, and that she was rummaging through her purse, getting a bit flustered.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"Yes, I just thought I had more money left on me than I actually do, and I forgot my card."

"I'll get these for you if you like," he smiled.

"Oh no, that's ok. I'll just nip to the cashpoint," she said

"I really don't mind," he said.

"I know you're being nice, but I never let people pay for me. Just ask those two," she said, pointing at her friends.

"If you're sure," he said.

"Yes thanks. If you could watch the drinks for a minute though until I get back, I'd really appreciate it."

She headed towards the door, and Harry turned away from her and ordered his own drinks. He hated to say it and prove his friends right, but he was glad he'd been forced to talk to her. She was really nice and friendly and she looked like a nice normal woman, which was a nice change from the skinny, hard-faced, blondes with cold, calculating eyes who usually chatted him up. Not that she was chatting him up though, but then maybe he should ask her out. She hadn't really been flirty, but then to him, flirty meant girls in short dresses pressing themselves up against him, and Hermione didn't really seem the type to do that.

"Hi, thanks for doing that," a voice behind him said.

"That's ok," he smiled, suddenly feeling very nervous. Should he ask her?

"I didn't realise Dean Thomas was your friend with the birthday," she said. "He waved to me just now, and we had a little chat. He's one of my patients."

Harry tried to keep himself calm. What was Dean playing at?

"I said I'd been talking to you, and he said about how you'd organised his birthday for him and how he was really glad he had a kind, thoughtful, handsome friend like you. I think he was a bit drunk," she laughed.

"Yeah, just a bit," Harry said, forcing himself to laugh along, even though he was mortified.

Hermione paid for her drinks and smiled at him.

"I suppose I'd better be getting back to my friends. They can't go too long without wine!"

"Yeah, I'd better get back to Dean and that lot I suppose. I need to keep them out of trouble!"

There was a pause.

"Do you want to meet for a drink here sometime, just the two of us?" she asked shyly.

He froze. Had she just asked him out? To think that he'd nearly wimped out of doing it!

"Yes, I'd love to," he said, smiling. "I'm glad you asked."

"Great, so if I give you my phone number, just give me a ring sometime and we'll work out a good time," she said, blushing slightly as she handed him a card. "So, I'll see you soon then?"

"Yeah," he said happily, "I'll give you a ring."

He turned and started walking back to his meddling friends, who were looking at him smugly. Maybe their meddling wasn't such a bad thing after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the really long wait for this chapter! As well as the essays and concerts and everything, I've had a hard time writing Harry and Hermione's date. I've got round that by not writing it for now, and it turned out that it was a good way to set up some stuff for what happens later in the story, so it actually turned out ok. I'll see if I can write the date in the next chapter.**

**Thanks for all the alerts and reviews and everything. I've never had such a huge response to a first chapter before! Keep reviewing and all that if you like this chapter too!

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**Harry sat on the sofa in his living room, absent-mindedly playing with a little piece of paper, folding it and twisting it into strange shapes. It had been a few days since Hermione had given Harry her number, and he was undecided as to whether he should phone her. He wanted to, but he'd tried to do it and something had stopped him. What if she didn't actually like him? He'd been quite drunk that night; maybe she had been as well. What if she saw him and he wasn't how she remembered him? What if she was different to how he remembered her?

Then there was the whole muggle thing. Apart from his relatives, who he obviously wasn't too keen on, to put it mildly, he liked muggles. He just didn't know if it was a good idea to date one. How would he explain things like his job and his schooldays to her? What if he forgot for some reason and accidentally did magic in front of her at some point? He'd never been out on a date with a muggle before. Maybe they were just too different.

Also, never mind having never been on a date with a muggle before; he'd never been on a date _ever. _For someone who had so much female attention, his romantic track record was a bit rubbish, frankly: he'd fawned over Cho and kissed her once, then he'd got together with Ginny, who was his friend before that, and then he'd had fame-hungry witches throwing themselves at him. He'd never done this kind of 'random date' before. It wasn't the most important thing he should worry about, but it was something to worry about nevertheless.

"Alright?" Dean grunted, padding into the room in his dressing gown and rubbing his eyes.

"Morning," Harry said cheerfully, making his friend glower at him.

"It's two. This is early," he muttered.

Dean had a job teaching and looking after a group of magical children who hadn't yet started Hogwarts after their muggle school day finished. By talking to them about magic and helping them express themselves, it stopped them performing as much accidental magic as they otherwise would, helping them to fit into muggle society. He got to teach them to play Quidditch on toy brooms too, which was probably his favourite part. Well, that and the late starting time!

"So, you up to much?" Dean asked.

"No, not really," Harry said. "Just thinking."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he saw the card in Harry's hand.

"Haven't you phoned her yet?" he sighed. "I thought we'd come to the decision that you should."

"I know! It's just, she's a muggle."

"And we've got your story straight. You went to boarding school, which is where you met me if she asks, and then you got a job in the police. It's kind of like being an Auror, isn't it?" Dean said.

"Well, ok, but what if she changes her mind about me?"

"I doubt she's made her mind up about you yet anyway. She's only met you once. Listen, Harry: I know you haven't really done the dating thing very much, but I don't think she's the type of person who has either. I've never really heard anything about her boyfriends. From what I know about her, which isn't admittedly very much because I'm always panicking when I see her, she seems like a nice, down-to-earth woman. I think she'd be really good for you."

Harry looked down at the card. He could still just about make out what it said after the effects of his fiddling with it. He put it down, just in case.

"Do you really think we'd work?" he asked. "I mean, she seems really nice, but I have no idea what to do in these kinds of situations, and I don't want to embarrass myself by being really keen when she doesn't like me."

"Well, I don't know about not embarrassing yourself; I mean, she's twenty one and she's a dentist. She's a genius. Ok," he said, seeing Harry turn pale, "that was a bad thing to say, sorry. But I really do think you'd be a good couple and I'm not going to let you miss out on anything because you feel a bit scared. You're Harry Potter; you don't get scared of dark wizards, so you can't be scared of a _girl_."

Harry nodded. Dean was right; he was acting just like a nervous teenager. He was a grown man. So what if he'd never been on a proper date before? It was about time he did. He of all people knew you should face things head on. And he could worry about the whole muggle thing another time. It was one date. It didn't mean he was going to marry her. He might only see her this once. He was going to do it. With slightly shaky hands, he picked up the card.

"Can you read the number from that?" Dean asked, nodding at the creased, slightly grey piece of card. "I can get my appointment card if you want and you can get the number off it."

"It's ok," Harry smiled. "I know it off by heart."

...

Harry sat down on the sofa again with a huge grin on his face. He'd thought he was going to get her answering machine, but she was taking a day off so she'd actually answered the phone. She seemed really pleased to hear from him and told him that she was free that night, which he thought was a good sign. All he had to do now was prepare.

"I take it that went well?" Dean laughed. "You look loved-up already!"

"Yeah," Harry smiled. "She wants to meet tonight, so we're going to the pub at eight."

"That's great. So that's one problem out of the way. The next thing is sorting out your clothes and drilling you on how to impress her," Dean said with a wink. He was known as the womaniser of their group, even though he wasn't at all really; he'd just had a few more girlfriends than the rest of them, who'd all stayed with people from school. It wasn't a label he minded though. In fact, he milked it for all it was worth.

"Teach me, O wise one," Harry joked. "What do I wear to the pub? Just a shirt and jeans?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. Make sure they're nice ones though, not like that grey rag you're wearing now. It's always good to stick with black I think."

"Ok," Harry said, summoning some shirts from his room. "And this t-shirt is comfy. I like it."

"Just don't wear it outside," Dean said, holding identical shirts up in front of Harry. "This one, I think. Now, onto how to be 'Mr Smooth' like me."

...

Hours later, after drilling from Dean, Harry felt like he was ready to face Hermione. Dean had left him with the task of sorting out his hair while he went to work, but it wasn't going too well.

"It was the best I could do, ok?" he laughed as Dean took one look at him and shook his head.

"I suppose it's ok," Dean said, looking Harry up and down. "You're not changed."

"No, well I still have two-" Harry started, but he was cut off by the phone. He looked at the screen. "Who's 'devil woman,' Dean?"

"That's her, Harry!" Dean said, looking panicked. "That's Hermione."

"What does she want? She's not going to cancel on me, is she? Answer it for me!"

"I'm not answering it. She wants to talk to you."

"Tell her I'm not here."

"You're going out with her in two hours; where else could you be? Just answer it!"

Harry took a deep breath. "Hello?"

"Oh, Harry! Hello! It's Hermione. I'm very sorry to phone, but I need some help and all my male friends are still in work."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, worried.

"You'll think this is really silly, but all the shelves in my library have collapsed. I'm tutoring a dentistry student tomorrow, so I need everything to be organised, but I can't fix them. I don't suppose you could come round and have a go, and then we can go to the pub together afterwards? I'm sorry to be such a pain."

"It's no problem. I'll be over in two minutes."

"Thank you Harry. I live at 87 Wind Street. I'll see you soon. Thank you so much!"

Harry put the phone down and smiled at Dean, who was looking worried.

"It's ok. She's not cancelling. She wants me to head over to hers and fix some shelves before we go out. I'll see you when I get back."

He bounded out of the room.

"Harry, put your nice shirt on, for Merlin's sake!" Dean called.

...

Harry walked to Hermione's house; he thought she'd find it weird if he apparated and turned up too quickly. Luckily, he knew the area quite well. It was a bit more upmarket than where he and Dean lived, with white houses with grassy front gardens and posh cars on the drives. He supposed she had a bit more money than him if she was a dentist. He counted the house numbers as he walked and eventually arrived at number 87. Her house seemed a little less daunting than the others, he thought as he rang the doorbell. It still looked very nicely kept, but the little old red car on the drive and pair of gardening gloves hanging on a hook on the wall made it look a little more homely than the others.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said, opening the door. She was just as pretty as he remembered, with that gorgeous hair and kind face. She wasn't even dressed up smartly, in her purple jumper and jeans, and he didn't think she was even wearing makeup but she still managed to look beautiful. "Come in."

Harry entered the house and immediately took his shoes off. The floor of her hall was covered in spotless beige carpet and he didn't want to spoil it. Her whole house looked so neat and tidy. He wondered how she managed to find the time. Everything was gleaming, even the coat hooks on the wall and he couldn't see any dust anywhere. It was very different to his own house. He'd have to have a huge cleanup if she ever came to see him.

"Thank you for doing this for me," she said. "I don't understand how it happened. I was looking for a book, but I couldn't find it. I was getting really annoyed with myself because I always keep my books in their right places, and then the shelves just collapsed."

"That didn't help your mood at all, I'm guessing," Harry said.

"No," she laughed. "Not at all. It's a total mess in there now. I'll show you."

She led him up the hall and into a room at the far end. She was right; it was a complete mess. He'd thought it would've just been one broken bookshelf, but it was all of them. There were a lot of them, too. He'd thought it was a bit strange that she'd said she had a 'library,' but there was no other word for it. It was a big room with a comfy sofa and coffee table in the middle of four walls completely covered in bookcases.

"I don't need all of them fixed tonight," she said, probably noticing the look of amazement on his face, "just these two here. I keep all my dentistry books on these. The rest can wait a while."

"I'll see what I can do," Harry said. "I'm not great at DIY though."

"Well any improvement on this will be great," Hermione smiled. "I'll just go and get ready to go out. Is it ok if we say we'll leave at half past? I hate being late for things I've got planned, even if we're both going together anyway."

"Ok," Harry laughed. "You should have some kind of bookshelves again by then."

She left to get ready and Harry got to work. It wasn't a difficult job really; the shelves just slotted in, although there were some broken parts, which he fixed with a sneaky flick of his wand. He'd soon finished the two she'd asked him to do so he decided to try and get some of the others done until she was ready. He might as well, seeing as he was there, and it looked like this was her favourite room. It seemed very lived in, with a woolly blanket folded up at the end of the sofa, slightly squashed cushions and a coffee cup on the table. He soon got into a routine of move books, fix shelves, slot in shelves, put books back. She had a lot of books, which she seemed to arrange by category. He got through the shelves for history books, biographies, plays and crime novels before she came back.

"Wow, you've done a lot," she exclaimed when she returned.

"Well, I thought I might as well keep going. You have a good collection here. It seems a shame to leave them scattered everywhere," he said, slotting the last shelf of the crime novels bookcase back in.

"Yes, I just can't stop buying more," she laughed. "Don't be afraid to tell me to be quiet if I go on about them too much when we're out. As interesting as I find Henry Woodhouse in'Emma,' I'm aware that not many other people do."

"Ok," Harry smiled, turning around. "You look amazing, Hermione."

She'd looked nice in her casual clothes, so Harry had been expecting her to look good when she was all dressed up to go out, but she had still managed to take his breath away. She looked like some kind of angel with her hair smoothed out into shiny curls and wearing a knee-length lilac dress with a floaty skirt. He ran his hands over his jeans, suddenly feeling under-dressed.

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "Shall we go then?"

Harry smiled and nodded. He was having a great time already, and he never thought he'd ever have fun looking through books. They hadn't even officially started their date yet, and he already felt like he wanted to see her again. Thank Merlin he'd finally got the courage to phone her. He would have missed out on something very special if he hadn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, look at me with my quick update! I wanted to get this one out pretty quickly because it could've easily gone on the end of the last chapter. I've brought in a bit of George and Angelina too. It's nice to have some variety.**

**Again, the response to this has been amazing. I couldn't believe it when I checked my emails the day after I put the chapter up! Thanks everyone! Keep reviewing and everything if you like this chapter too!  
**

By the time Harry and Hermione got to the pub, they were talking and laughing like they'd known each other for years. Harry was glad Hermione had mysteriously broken her shelves. Seeing her before their actual date meant that there was no awkwardness somehow. It'd brought up things to talk about like her love of books and gardening which meant there were no awkward silences while Harry tried to think up topics of conversation.

"And the neighbours are so jealous of how I get them to grow in our soil. They just don't understand it. They say I have the magic touch," Hermione finished.

"Well, your garden looks great," Harry smiled. "I wish Dean and I had one, although we'd probably get bored of it quite quickly. We had to do...gardening in school, so it'd probably seem too much like work for us. It'd be nice to give it a go though. Shall we go and sit in that corner?"

Hermione nodded and Harry led the way to the table he'd just pointed out. He just couldn't believe how well everything was going. He was mentally ticking off items on Dean's date checklist easily. 'Be interested in her' was easy. She had such a wide range of hobbies and she was just an interesting person anyway. 'Find something in common' was easy too. He knew a lot about gardening, from the Dursleys fussing about their perfect flowerbeds as well as Herbology lessons. Muggle plants were actually quite similar to magical ones, except they were less likely to try and kill you. He'd even succeeded in 'make her laugh,' which he was quite surprised about because she seemed quite a serious person. She had a lovely laugh though: light and tinkly, and Harry had decided to try and make her laugh more over the course of their date.

"What do you fancy drinking?" he asked. "If I remember correctly, you like wine. I don't know much about it really; I used to drink smuggled-in spirits and then moved onto pints when I was older, but if you pick one I'll go and get us a bottle."

"Well, all the whites here are really nice, so whichever you like. I've never really done the spirits thing. I wasted my youth," she laughed. "Maybe you can pick one out for me afterwards."

"That might make you feel a bit ill tomorrow," Harry said. "I don't want to be the one responsible for that!"

"Oh, don't worry about me," she said. "I have an abnormally strong stomach. It takes a lot to make me feel ill."

Harry smiled at her and nodded before heading off to the bar. He picked the wine with the easiest name to say and looked back at Hermione while the barman was getting the bottle. She was running her hands over her hair, trying to flatten it or something he supposed. She didn't need to bother doing that; her hair was gorgeous and he liked the way it all swung round when she turned her head. If anyone needed to sort their hair out it was him! Taking the bottle and glasses, he sat down next to Hermione and poured them both a drink.

"Good choice," she said, turning the bottle to look at the label. "How much do I owe you for that?"

"Oh, don't worry," he said. "I'll get this."

"No, I insist," she replied, the wine in her glass fizzing slightly. Harry noticed and sipped his own wine. No, he was right: it wasn't fizzy. Odd.

"Let me do one nice thing for you, Hermione" he smiled.

"You've already fixed my bookshelves, but ok," she said. "You have to promise you'll let me buy our spirits though."

"Ok, that seems fair enough," Harry said. "I still can't believe you've never really had spirits before."

"Well, when I was younger the only alcohol I only really drank was wine when my parents were having one of their posh dinners. Apart from that, they were really strict about underage drinking. Then, when I left home for uni, I was still too young to drink because I'd skipped a few years in school. I was too busy anyway. I'd stay in the library until it closed, and then I'd be back there when it opened in the morning. I kind of regret not having more of a life in a way, but I still made some of my best friends back then, and I've got a really good job out of it."

"Yeah, being a dentist must be pretty interesting. Well, except for when Dean's around," Harry joked.

"He's not even one of the worst," Hermione laughed. "I have to get my nurse to hold some of them in the chair!"

Harry laughed too. If only she could see Dean before his dental appointments! He'd complain of some mysterious illness and say he probably shouldn't go. Harry would offer to brew him some stomach-settling potion though and then he'd make a miraculous recovery at the prospect of having to drink the slimy green liquid.

"I've always said I'm surprised Dean doesn't have to be strapped down or something," Harry said. "You'd think he'd know better really from working with kids."

"That's right, he runs a youth club, doesn't he?" Hermione said. "That suits him down to the ground, although I hope he doesn't make them all scared of the dentist. What do you do, Harry?"

"I'm in the police," Harry said, hoping he wasn't blushing too much. He wasn't very good at lying. "I'm a detective."

"Wow, that must be a really exciting job," Hermione said. "I love reading detective stories, although I know they're obviously not the same as the real thing. I- I nearly started going on about books then," she laughed, stopping herself.

"Well that's only the first time you have," Harry smiled.

"Yeah, I'm doing well," she said. "So what's it like?"

"It's really rewarding, knowing you're making everything safer. Some of the people we put away are huge dangers to society and it's a really good feeling knowing you're keeping them out of people's way."

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "That's amazing."

"All in a day's work. Literally," he joked. "So, shall we get some spirits in? I recommend a vodka and orange for a beginner."

...

"Why does your sister always floo here whenever she has man troubles?" Angelina complained after Ginny had left the flat.

"Because I'm her big brother and I'm meant to be here for her. You might want to try being a bit more helpful too, seeing as you're a girl," George replied.

"She might want to try checking we're not doing anything before she lets herself into our home," Angelina argued. "What if we'd been 'busy'?"

"Not much chance of that," George muttered. "Well, we were only eating dinner, and you were really rude to her. She was really upset. Michael forgot to go to dinner with our parents."

"I don't think he just forgot, and who can blame him?" Angelina smirked. "None of her hundreds of boyfriends are exactly going to be loved by your family after she used to go out with Harry, are they?"

"What do you mean by 'hundreds of boyfriends'?" George asked angrily. "She just hasn't found the right one yet. Give her a break. Why do you have to keep complaining about my family, or my friends, or just about anything else I do?"

"Because you're all annoying and cliquey and only care about yourselves. They're hard to put up with, George."

"And things would have been different with Fred, would they?"

"Don't bring Fred into this."

"We had the same family and friends, Ang, so stop acting like it's so unfair that you're stuck with them, because you would've been either way, whether you ended up with me or Fred."

"Well, that would've been different. I loved _Fred_," Angelina said nastily.

George turned away from her and grabbed the floo powder pot. Without saying a word, he stepped into the fireplace, leaving his girlfriend with her hands clapped over her mouth.

...

Harry couldn't stop smiling as he bounced up the stairs to his flat. He'd had such a great night with Hermione. They'd talked the whole time, without any kind of awkward silences, which was what he'd been worried about. He couldn't believe how much they had in common too, especially as she was a muggle, but they both liked going out to watch films and they both hated cooking. On discovering that, Harry had suggested they went out for a meal before going to watch a film sometime, which she'd seemed very keen on doing. At the end of the date, he'd walked her back to her house because it was on Dean's list of things to do, as well as because he didn't want her walking home on her own in the dark.

As soon as he stepped into his flat, his good mood immediately left him as he heard a noise. He'd come to recognise the noises Dean made so he knew it wasn't him. Besides, Dean wouldn't be creeping around the house in the dark. He drew his wand and crept into the living room.

"Hey, Harry. It's only me," a voice said nervously.

Harry put his wand down straight away.

"Sorry, George," he said.

He should've known! George always came round without giving any warning. Harry knew at once why he was there.

"What's happened this time?" he asked softly.

"We got into a fight about Ginny coming round, and to cut a long story short, she hates my family and friends but would've put up with them if Fred was still here because she loved him," George said, his voice breaking. "I came here and Dean said I could stay, but then one of his muggleborn kids exploded their bedroom and he had to go and sort it out.

"Listen," Harry said. "You stay here as long as you want. I know you don't want to hear this again, George, but you have to do some serious thinking. You need to work out if you love Angelina or not, and whether your relationship will work."

"You know I don't love her, Harry," George said. "And she made it perfectly clear that she doesn't love me, not in the right way anyway. The thing is though, I'm all she has left of Fred, who she really _did_ love. I can't leave her and make her lose that last part of him. She reminds me of him too. We still have good days, and when we're joking, it's like when we were back at school and I'm reminded of all the fun we had together when Fred was there."

"But you have other people to remind you of Fred. You have your family."

"When he was with Angelina was when he was happiest though. I like remembering him that way."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, although he knew George would give the same answer he always did.

"I'm going to give it one more chance."

There was silence for a while, while George sat and thought and Harry tried to stop himself arguing with him. George had given the relationship 'one more chance' too many times. He hoped his and Hermione's relationship wouldn't turn out like that. He didn't think it would, although he knew he couldn't tell. Why had he been so worried about going out with a muggle? Because they were so different, he and Hermione didn't have the baggage from the war that George and Angelina had.

"How was your date with Hermione?" George asked brightly, although his voice sounded forced.

"We don't have to talk about that, George," Harry said.

"No, I want to know. It's kind of nice: one relationship gets closer to its end but another one's just beginning."

Harry smiled. Perhaps the differences between him and Hermione would actually help their relationship, rather than hinder it. He could worry about the other difficulties later. Right now, Harry knew he didn't have any reasons to talk himself out of seeing Hermione again and he couldn't wait to see where things would go.


	4. Chapter 4

**This will be the last update for about a week probably because I'm off on an orchestra course tomorrow and I usually crash out for a few days once I'm home. I might update sooner, but just to warn you in case I don't.**

**Another, more important, warning now: you'll notice because of this chapter, I've changed the rating of this fic to M. This is because I thought of another way to show Hermione's magic in this chapter, but the material is slightly more adult. If this offends you, you can just read up to the part where they say good night to each other and then skip to the last few lines. I'd hate to lose readers over it, and I can safely say that it's very very likely that this will be the only M-rated part of the whole fic and like I said, it's only been included as a plot device, not just random sex.**

**Finally, an apology: I have never published anything with an M rating before as I don't think I'm particularly good at writing them. I've tried to get it over with pretty quickly and painlessly, but I'm not happy with it. Feel free to mentally insert your own M-rated scene in place of mine as you read, and skip over it when you're reviewing ;)

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**Over the next few months, Harry and Hermione grew closer and closer. They'd seen so many films the staff in the cinema knew their names and the way they liked their popcorn (salted) and Harry had developed an appreciation for foreign films, which he never thought he would. They'd gone to the pub a lot too, but only for wine; Hermione had decided she didn't like spirits, as well as going to each other's houses and attempting to cook. To Harry, it felt like things were moving very quickly, not that that was a bad thing.

Dean said it was normal though. In fact, when Harry actually came home after every date, he always said he was amazed that things hadn't gone further with the two of them. Yes, Harry had thought about moving things on to the next level with her, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. He'd never had to before; Ginny had let him know she was ready by dragging him to the Room of Requirement after a Quidditch match. He knew Hermione was a bit more reserved than Ginny though, and that she wouldn't respond so well to such forceful tactics. He had the feeling that the way to go about it was to discuss things with her, but the problem was that he didn't know how to bring it up. He'd asked Dean, but his friend had said that it was one the one thing that he couldn't teach him. 'Mr Smooth' didn't do the discussion thing; he preferred to let his actions speak for him.

The next time all his friends came round, Harry cornered Ron and asked him what he thought. Anyone who could deal with Lavender was surely able to handle any girl. While all his friends were huddled around the television trying to understand the rules of football one Saturday afternoon, Harry called Ron into the kitchen. He looked relieved to be taken away actually; he liked Quidditch too much to get into football like Seamus and George had done.

"Ron, I need to ask you something. I need advice about Hermione," he said.

"Yeah? Not sure how much help I'll be, but go on," Ron said. "Is everything going ok?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. We're having fun together and I really like her. She seems to really like me too. It's just, I'd like to talk to her about moving forward. Y'know, physically, but I don't know how to bring it up."

"Do you really feel you need to talk about it? You could just try and push a little further next time you're kissing. I assume you're at the kissing stage," he joked. "If she doesn't like it, she'll tell you and you'll know to wait a bit longer until she's ready."

"I suppose I could do that," Harry said, although he looked uncertain.

"Or, you could ask her to stay over sometime," Ron said. "Then you could just share a bed and see where things lead. Even if it doesn't go anywhere you're at the next stage, intimacy-wise."

"That's a good idea," Harry said, nodding. "That way, if she doesn't want to do anything yet, it at least builds things up gradually. Thanks mate."

"That's alright," Ron grinned. "In fact, I think I have a really good idea."

"Ron, if this involves a party..." Harry warned.

Ron was always trying to get Harry and Dean to throw parties at the flat, claiming that their housewarming party was "legendary." They hadn't had very many though; it was just too much effort.

"Listen, we haven't seen very much of Hermione except in passing. You could have a party and invite her so we can get to know her better. Invite those friends she was with in the pub too so you can get to know them. Then, you can ask her to stay over afterwards. It's perfect!"

"I think you're forgetting something though, Ron; we'll be inviting three muggles to a party full of drunk witches and wizards."

"We're not stupid. We'll hide our wands somewhere just in case we need them. There's no chance of us being able to do wandless magic drunk."

"Well,"

It _was _time he introduced Hermione to his friends properly. It was probably time he met hers too; he'd only seen them once or twice. And it was the perfect opportunity to ask her to stay over. He had no reason to say no really. He looked at Ron, who was grinning manically.

"Ok then," he sighed.

Ron cheered and ran into the living room, where Harry heard Dean shouting.

"We're doing _what?_"

...

After everyone had gone, Harry had told Dean about his reasons for agreeing with Ron about this party, as well as the plan Ron had come up with about Hermione staying over. His flatmate reluctantly agreed and started putting protective charms on the carpets, even though the party was still a week away.

A few days later, Harry met Hermione for their weekly film. It'd been her turn to choose, and she'd plumped for a romantic comedy after seeing that there were no foreign films showing, her excuse being that it might be mindless and bland, but after the week she'd been having she needed something that wouldn't involve much thinking.

Harry, sensing the perfect time to bring up the party, jumped in.

"That reminds me! Dean and I are having a small party at the flat this Saturday if you fancy it. I thought it'd be nice for you and your friends to meet me and my friends properly. Plus, it's a great way to unwind if your week carries on like this!"

"That'd be fun," she smiled. "I haven't met some of your friends at all yet, and it'll be nice to see Dean when he's not cowering in fear. I won't stay too late though; it'll be awful trying to get a taxi back to mine."

Harry beamed inwardly. She was unknowingly making it really easy to get everything out. He hadn't been planning on mentioning staying over just yet, but he knew an opening when he saw one.

"Well, you could always stay at mine if you want," he said.

She blushed slightly.

"That'd be good," she said softly. "Oh look, I see Josh has our popcorn ready," she laughed. "We'd better get a move on."

Harry followed her and paid for his share of the popcorn, something he'd got used to doing with Hermione seeing as she'd never let him pay for her. That was much easier than he'd thought it would be.

...

The day of the party arrived and Harry had arranged for everyone to arrive earlier than Hermione and her friends so he could go over a few things with them. First, he stressed the importance of not doing magic and then took everyone's wands and locked them in a drawer. He then reminded them that Quidditch, Chocolate Frogs and Professor Snape were among the things they weren't allowed to talk about, and if they must talk about magical things, they should try and make them sound as muggle as they could. He was sure there was one more thing he needed to do, but he couldn't think what. He was soon reminded though when George stumbled through the Floo muttering apologies. Harry quickly blocked it off after he came through. He didn't want Hermione and her friends seeing heads in the fire.

"Sorry, Harry," George said, handing Harry his wand. "Ang isn't coming tonight."

"That's a shame," Harry said, although he wasn't sure he meant it. "Is she not well?"

"No, just another fight. Don't even ask," George sighed, sinking into a chair and taking the drink his brother pushed into his hand. "Let's just have a great party!"

Hermione and her friends arrived about ten minutes later, twenty minutes earlier than planned.

"Hi," she said, giving her boyfriend a quick kiss. "Sorry we're early."

"Don't worry," Harry smiled. "Everyone else was too. They decided to be really organised for once. Hey everyone! This is Hermione...and Rebecca and Catherine? Yes, Hermione, Rebecca and Catherine. This is everyone: Dean, Ron, Lavender, Seamus, Luna and George."

"I brought some wine to add to the supplies," Hermione said to Harry. "Rebecca already had a bit on her way here," she laughed, pulling a half empty bottle out of her bag, "but there are two more bottles as well. Shall I put them in the fridge?"

"I'll take them now," Harry said. "In a minute, Lav," he called, noticing his friend waving at him.

"It's ok," Hermione said. "I'll take them. You go and talk to her."

"No, it's fine. She'll only want to talk about hairstyles or something. I'll take them."

"It's no trouble," Hermione said firmly. "I know where your kitchen is; I've seen you nearly set fire to it often enough."

She took the half-drank bottle back from Harry. The liquid inside fizzed up again like it had in the pub and the cork burst out with a loud pop.

"That was strange," she remarked, picking up the cork. "I'll just go and pop it in the fridge."

"Thanks for inviting us," Rebecca said, stumbling up to Harry and slurring slightly. She was a tiny girl, short and very thin and Harry wasn't surprised she'd got drunk so quickly. "Your friends seem really nice. You seem really nice too. Hermione says you're nice. Wow, I used the word 'nice' a lot then!" she giggled.

"I'm glad Hermione thinks I'm nice. I think she is too," Harry smiled.

"Yeah, me and Cath really like you. You're not like Daniel. Have you heard about Daniel?"

"Once or twice," Harry said. Daniel had been Hermione's last boyfriend, although he hadn't lasted very long.

"We didn't like Daniel. He got freaked out by her clumsiness and everything. Hermione breaks things a lot," Rebecca said, laughing like it was the funniest thing ever. "But you! You wouldn't get like that. I can tell. I'm very intuitive like that."

"Becky! Stop scaring my poor boyfriend," Hermione laughed, appearing behind them.

"It's ok," Harry grinned. "She approves."

"I do! Do you know who else I approve of? That guy over there! Did you say he was Seamus or George?"

"That's George," Harry said. "But-"

Rebecca had already stumbled away to talk to her new interest before Harry could finish his sentence. He looked slightly cheered up by the woman stumbling towards him though, so he decided to let it go.

"Didn't you say George has a girlfriend?" Hermione asked. "Becky's very...forward sometimes."

"It's ok. It's a long story, and I don't think he'll do anything anyway. Have you mingled yet?"

"Well, I've spoken to Dean a bit. He's a lot of fun when he's not a bundle of nerves. I bumped into Luna in the kitchen too. She's very interesting."

"That's a nice way of putting it," Harry laughed.

"No, she's lovely," Hermione said. "I like her. I haven't spoken to the others though. Also, I don't want to be paranoid, but Lavender's been giving me some funny looks."

"She's very protective of Ron, but once you talk to her she'll be fine, I promise," Harry said.

Hermione nodded and went back to talk to Luna, who was waving madly at Hermione as if they were further away than they actually were. Harry went to sit by Ron and Lavender.

"How's it going?" Ron asked.

"I think it's going well," Harry smiled. "She seems to be having fun doesn't she? Her friends are really nice as well."

"That Rebecca's a bit common though, isn't she?" Lavender asked, adjusting her rather short dress. "She's got very drunk already, and look at her all over your brother Won-Won! Although, if she takes his mind of that miserable tomboy it's not such a bad thing."

Harry laughed. Luckily he was in the right mood for Lavender and her bitchiness. She managed to hide it quite well now normally, but when she'd had a few drinks it all came out again. Had the night not been going well, he would've been biting his tongue as to not upset Ron.

"Well I like Rebecca," Harry said. "She seems a lot of fun. Are you having a good time, Lavender? Spoken to Hermione at all?"

"Yeah, it's a great party," she smiled. "And no, but I'll get round to it. She's very pretty, Harry."

"Too pretty for me, I know," Harry said. "She's really nice too."

"Yeah, she has kind eyes, although I'm not sure about how much of that is from the lack of makeup. A bit of mascara wouldn't kill her!"

Harry laughed again and turned to Ron.

"She seems to be getting on with everyone, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, and she seems to especially like Luna. Is she still staying tonight?" Ron said, dropping his voice.

"Yeah, although I'm still not sure how things are going to go," Harry said.

"For Merlin's sake!" Lavender butted in. "Sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be listening. But don't worry about planning everything out. It'll just make things more awkward. That's why I started everything with Won-Won before he even had a chance to think about it. Just enjoy tonight and see where it goes without gossiping and worrying like a pair of girls! I'm going to go talk to your girlfriend. You two act manly now!"

Harry and Ron grinned at each other and went off to join in the drinking game that George, Rebecca and Seamus had started. However drunk and bitchy she was, Harry realised Lavender was right: he should enjoy his party instead of worrying all the time.

...

In the early hours of the morning after everyone had discreetly recovered their wands, people started to leave. They all left through the front door as to keep up the pretence of being muggles, something Harry was impressed they'd managed to do. Rebecca was practically carried out by Catherine and George, while the others were stumbling a bit. Dean started to tidy up, but was too tired so gave up and went to bed, giving Harry a wink as he did so. Harry and Hermione followed and went upstairs too.

Once they were in his room, Harry locked the door. He wasn't sure how to go about things now. He needed to take his clothes off, but should he do it in front of Hermione? And should he wear pyjamas? He didn't normally, but then he usually slept alone. While he was thinking, he realised that Hermione was changing in front of him. He missed most of what Dean would call 'the good stuff' while he was worrying, but what he liked what he could see of her in her vest top and shorts. She was by no means skinny, not like Rebecca anyway, but she was still slender, with shapely legs, curvy hips and firm breasts...firm breasts that he couldn't stop staring at. He looked up at her guiltily and she smiled.

"Are you going to change too?" she asked with a grin.

He did, digging out a pair of pyjama bottoms to wear, but deciding to go shirtless. He brushed his teeth quickly by the basin in the corner, knowing that Hermione wouldn't approve if he didn't, and got into bed. She took slightly longer brushing her teeth and washing her face before joining him.

Well, this was awkward, he thought. They were lying side by side, not touching. They exchanged small talk about the party for a bit, but he couldn't stop being very conscious that he was lying in bed with Hermione.

"Well, goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," she replied, leaning over to give him a goodnight kiss.

He returned her kiss, and before he knew it, she had rolled over so she was straddling him. He felt all the blood leave his brain and rush south, and their kissing became more passionate. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies to a soundtrack of gasps and moans and soon all clothing was thrown onto the floor in their hurry to see and explore more.

Harry moaned as Hermione's small hand reached down to wrap itself around his length and started slowly moving up and down. He knew Hermione couldn't be as prim and proper as she seemed, but...all thoughts left his head as her hand movements became a little quicker and were joined by her mouth. He practically turned the air blue with his response, which in turn seemed to excite her more as she worked on him more intensely.

Not wanting to be the one who had all the fun, after a while he beckoned for Hermione to come up to his level again. Pulling her close to him, he delighted in the feeling of her breasts pressed against his skin. After kissing her, he put more space between them again as he trailed kisses all over her body. She let out a little squeak as he sucked on one of her nipples, and her fingers became tangled in his hair as she wordlessly let him know she wanted more.

He gradually moved further and further down until he came to the place he knew she wanted him to touch. Not being one to deny her anything, he stroked a finger along her folds before sliding it into her. They both groaned in pleasure at the same time, as he felt her obvious arousal. He started moving his finger back and forth and soon a strangled "another" from above him led to him using two fingers. He could feel her sensitive spot and thrust against it repeatedly, making her cry out. The gasps and moans she was letting out were becoming louder and more high pitched and he knew she was close. He found her swollen bundle of nerves with his thumb and with a few more thrusts into her, she was moaning and calling out his name as he felt her muscles clenching around his fingers.

As this happened, Harry became aware of a tingling in his hand, working its way up through his fingers. This soon turned to what felt like an electric shock painfully coursing through his body through his arm. He cried out and everything turned black.

What must have been a few minutes later, he opened his eyes and found that he was lying on the floor with Hermione standing over him looking worried. His arm was still aching and he remembered the strange electric shock that had gone through him as Hermione had come apart.

"Are you ok?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "You fell off the bed. Strange, you don't seem concussed even though you were out for quite a while there."

Harry sat up. His head ached and there would probably be a lump, but he knew he was unlikely to be concussed because of the lasting effects of various potions he had had to take after Quidditch accidents and the like in Hogwarts.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to ignore the thumping headache. "Honestly."

"Let's just go to bed," she said. "If you're not concussed we can get you checked out in the morning."

They snuggled up together in bed and Hermione fell asleep almost instantly. Harry couldn't sleep though. He couldn't have just fallen off the bed; he was too far away from the edge, and that electric shock was strange. It seemed to have come from Hermione. It might just be his injured head messing up his thoughts, but he was sure something wasn't quite right.

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**Hopefully you'll see why I had to do that now! Leave a review if you enjoyed, and please be nice! I'm actually quite scared about this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this update has taken so long! Blame my useless laptop and the chapter getting stuck in cyberspace on the way back from my wonderful new beta reader, Luna Lovegood's Magic, who has been great with correcting my grammar (although I did change some spellings back to their British versions. I hope you don't mind!) and checking I'm on the right track. And she's been very patient while I've been sending her hundreds of messages going, "argh I can't use docx." What more could an author want from a beta?**

**I'm not sure when the next chapter will be now, as I have exams starting next week. Writing this is much more fun than working though, so chapter 6 might not be a very long way away after all!**

**Thank you for the reviews and putting me on alerts and faves lists. I have a really boring essay on Bach to finish today, so leave a review and make me smile when I'm struggling through it!

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**Hermione left early the next morning after making sure Harry was all right, giving him strict instructions to phone her if he felt even slightly ill. Harry agreed, even though he had no intention of doing so. He'd been lying awake nearly all night with a pounding headache while Hermione slept, snuggled up to him. Even though he'd spent the whole time thinking about that strange electric shock, he couldn't work out what it could've been. It had never happened to him before, not even with Ginny. It was strange though, and he wanted to know what it was.

"Well?" Dean smirked and said, after Harry had closed the door for Hermione as she left. "Did you two...?"

"Um, no, not exactly," Harry replied, looking at the floor.

Dean looked back at him oddly. "Really? What happened?"

Harry shrugged, but Dean persevered anyway.

"Come on, Harry, tell me. Did you two have a fight or something? Don't worry; she didn't seem angry when she left. "Mr Smooth" notices these things," he added with a laugh.

Harry tried to smile at the comment to no avail. He shook his head. "No, we didn't have a fight."

"Then what happened?" Dean commanded him to answer, "I thought you two were definitely going to."

"Well, we started to, but I –"

"That's OK," Dean said, cutting in. "It's been a while for you. I'm sure Hermione doesn't mind."

Harry stared at Dean, horrified. It was like the time he had tripped in the street after a few too many drinks one night. Dean had been convinced that he'd been attacked and Harry had been dragged halfway through the Ministry before he could explain what had actually happened. Dean was just _too _keen to jump in and help sometimes.

"It wasn't _that_," he spluttered. "That's all fine, thank you. Let me finish my story. It's kind of strange."

"Thank Merlin for that!" Dean laughed, "Go on then."

"Well, everything was going fine. In fact everything was going brilliantly. I was trying to follow your advice. You know–"

"–Sort her out first before you go for the main event, just in case," his friend finished for him, "Yeah. Good advice, even if I do say so myself. Well done."

"Well, I was doing that, and then as she was enjoying it more and more, I kept feeling this weird tingle go up my arm and then, just when she was about to finish, there was this huge rush of something like electricity and then I was thrown backwards off the bed. Then we just went to bed."

"You're right," Dean said thoughtfully. "That _is _strange. What did she say?"

"Nothing. She just fussed and made sure I was OK and went to sleep. She thought I'd fallen off the bed somehow."

"Maybe similar things have happened to her before," Dean thought aloud while chewing his bottom lip, "Still, strange as it is, I'm just glad the two of you haven't had a fight."

Harry nodded. Things could've been worse; at least she didn't get angry or annoyed at him for ruining their night. What was he going to do next time though? He didn't think he could keep dealing with _that_ every time they had sex.

"Yeah, the only time we've even come close to disagreeing is when it comes to paying for things," Harry said.

"And that time last night when you were insisting on taking the wine to the kitchen yourself," Dean added, "Actually, didn't the cork pop out of the bottle then?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, confused. He hadn't seen Dean look so serious in ages. His friend seemed to be deep in thought. "Is something wrong?"

Dean shook his head, a pensive stare still gracing his features, "No, not wrong exactly. It just reminds me of some of the things my accidental magic kids do. The one who set fire to her bedroom the other day did it by creating electricity. And the cork thing's kind of weird. That can't be it though. She's too old for that. It's strange though."

Harry nodded. It was strange how similar Hermione's behaviour was to magic. It didn't make any sense, though. There had to be another reason. Although, now that he thought about it, the thing that had happened with her bookshelves was strange. A whole room couldn't just fall apart by its own means and she _did _say it had happened when she was in a bad mood. There were the little things too, like the fizzing drinks, the way she could get her flowers to grow when her neighbours couldn't—maybe even her really strong stomach. She'd told him that she could count the number of times she'd been ill on one hand.

No, there was no way Hermione could do magic. If she could, the Ministry would've caught it and she would've been in Hogwarts with him. Someone would've noticed. There was no way she could be a late developer either; she was so advanced in muggle ways, so if she did have magical she'd surely be advanced in that too. She should've been doing magic from when she was a baby if she could. How else could her behaviour be explained?

"Dean, what's the oldest that someone's been discovered to be magical?"

"We had one last year who we found out about a week before term was about to start, but not anyone who's twenty-one if that's what you're asking. There's next to no chance that that's what it could be," he replied.

"Thinking about it though, there are lots of little things that might be magic. Wouldn't it be amazing if she really is a witch? I'd be able to magic in front of her and I could stop lying about my school and job and everything."

Harry could tell that Dean wasn't sure about his theory, but then he hadn't seen the things Hermione had done. After all, he'd only just been able to go near her without shaking, although he was still nervous about laughing or smiling in front of her in case she could see his teeth.

"Fine," Dean said, seeing Harry's facial expression, "We'll go to Hogwarts and ask Professor McGonagall about it. Just don't get your hopes up."

...

Harry stood nervously outside Minerva McGonagall's office door. Dean had left him at the gate to go and catch up with Neville, who was sitting outside surrounded by lots of different plant pots, leaving Harry to go inside the castle on his own. Harry didn't mind; Dean had already made up his mind that there was no way Hermione could be a witch, although he felt strange walking around the school alone. It looked exactly the same as it did when he'd been there, as if the battle that had destroyed parts of the building had never even happened. He felt as though seventeen again, making the walk up to the head teacher's office. All nostalgia soon left though when he saw the new headmistress; tall and stern instead of the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore that he was used to.

"Mr. Potter," she said in her clipped Scottish tones, which would have sounded harsh had she not been smiling, "Neville told me you were on your way up. It's wonderful to see you here again."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied, "It's really nice to come back here. I'm in a strange situation, as usual," he joked, "and I have a few questions that I hope you can answer."

"Well, I'll do my best." The old woman smiled. "Come in, please. Would you like a cup of tea and some fruitcake? I'm afraid I don't have any sweets like Albus did."

Harry's stomach rumbled. He'd been in such a rush to find out what was going on, he hadn't eaten since he'd had a few handfuls of crisps at the party.

"Yes please," he said at last, "I haven't even thought about eating today up until now."

Professor McGonagall smiled and summoned some tea and cake from a cupboard at the side of the room.

"So, Harry, what can I help you with?" she asked.

"I've recently met a girl named Hermione. I thought she was a muggle, and she thinks she is too, but I've noticed some things recently that look like accidental magic to me. She managed to make all her bookshelves break when she was in a bad mood, and when she gets annoyed with me, her drinks fizz up in the glass in her hand. There are other little things too, but something big happened the other night," he said, trailing off. He couldn't talk about _that _to someone who'd known him since he was eleven.

"Well this is very unusual. I assume she's about your age?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, nearly a year older than me, but we would've been in the same school year."

"I think it's highly unlikely, I have to say," she said, "Magic appears in people from childhood. I don't see how the Ministry wouldn't have noticed. It couldn't have just started to happen."

"It's always been there, I think," Harry said, remembering something, "Her friend said last night that her last boyfriend couldn't stand the way she kept breaking things."

"Have you thought that she might just be naturally clumsy? These things can easily be explained: bookshelves can break easily if they're cheap and you put too much weight on them and drinks often fizz when they're poured. These things could all be coincidences. I'm sorry, Harry," she said, obviously seeing the disappointed look on his face, "but I just don't think it's possible. If you want, I could take a look at your memory of the big thing you said happened last night and let you know what I think."

Harry turned bright red. There was no way he was going to let McGonagall see his memories of that night. He'd never be able to look her in the eye again.

"Um, I'm afraid that's private, Professor," he mumbled, looking away as the portrait of Snape behind her sneered at him, "Maybe I could show you a memory of one of the other times?"

"I don't think they'd have enough to go on," she said. "I'm sorry, Harry. If there are any more occurrences that you'll be able to show me, please come back and do so. Don't get too caught up in the idea though; like I said, it's very unlikely."

Harry nodded, thanked her and left, annoyed. McGonagall and Dean were meant to know all about accidental magic, and yet he was the only one who was actually able to see it when it was happening right in front of them. He'd prove it to both of them.

...

"So she didn't think so either?" Dean said, as they walked to the apparition point.

"No, but I have a plan," Harry replied.

"Why don't I like the sound of this?"

"Just listen! McGonagall said to go back if anything else happens and show her my memory of it."

"Yes, but you said that she also said it was very unlikely to happen," Dean pointed out.

"I'm going to try something just once," Harry said, "and if it doesn't work, I'll drop it and accept that Hermione's a muggle. First though, I'm going to try and get her to perform some magic."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I was thinking I'm going to make her angry. All those little things happened when she was annoyed with me. If I make her properly angry, then surely she'll let off a lot of magic. It's like you say: the stronger the emotion, the stronger the magic."

"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't talked about work with you," Dean said, "Do you really think it's worth making her angry with you and risking having a huge fight just so you can prove Hermione's a witch?"

"Oh, I'll apologise loads afterwards. She won't stay angry with me forever."

"What about when you tell her she's a witch? Muggles don't take that kind of thing as a compliment!"

"Well... I haven't got that far yet. You can help me with that," Harry declared, giving Dean what he hoped was a persuasive smile.

Dean didn't reply, but he appeared to be thinking, which Harry took as a good sign. They reached the apparition point, and a few seconds later they were back in the hall of their flat. They went into their living room to sit down and were greeted by the familiar sight of George asleep on their sofa, although it _was _unusual for him to be doing it in the afternoon.

"He's dribbling on the cushions," Dean hissed, "And I took the protective charms off this morning! And he stinks of booze!"

"Leave him," Harry whispered. "We'll talk to him when he wakes up later. He's obviously had a rough night. You know how Ang hates it when he drinks."

"She must have kicked him out before he could shower then," Dean commented, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Or change his clothes."

"Oh shush, Dean," said Harry while walking towards the kitchen so George could sleep in peace. "The sofa will survive, I'm sure. Come on. We have some planning to do."

"Fine," Dean agreed, "Seeing as I can't stay in here, I might as well help you. If you want a lot of magic, this is what you should do..."


	6. Chapter 6

"I think I should go for the most expensive one," Harry mused as he looked around at the various takeaway menus scattered around him, "and then she'll be even more annoyed when I insist on paying for her."

Hermione was due to come around in less than an hour, and Harry and Dean were putting the finishing touches to their plan. Or rather, Harry's plan, seeing as Dean insisted he didn't want any part in it. Dean was just sitting there, wondering how to talk his friend out of it. He'd felt incredibly guilty after he'd first told Harry how to get Hermione to perform a notable amount of magic that he and McGonagall could see and had then clammed up and refused to offer any more help. He was still sceptical about whether Hermione was actually a witch or not; his experience from his job told him that she couldn't be, even though he wanted to try and believe his friend. Then if it all went wrong and she wasn't a witch, he didn't want to have anything to do with the break-up that would most likely follow.

"Are you going to help at all?" Harry asked, annoyed, "Or are you just going to sit there and scowl every time I look 'round at you?"

Dean shrugged, and Harry turned back to his menu with an exasperated sigh. He knew he'd been touchy and snappy over the past few days, but he was just annoyed that he hadn't been able to convince Dean to help after all, or even get him to admit that there was a chance his girlfriend was able to do magic. He'd prove it tonight though. Even with the very basic information Dean had actually given him, he'd managed to make a plan. Dean had told him that lots of little events to make her angry, rather than one big one would result in the biggest display of magic. He'd therefore invited Hermione over to watch a DVD and eat takeaway and he was going to do everything she hated: not bother to tidy the flat, pick the wrong film, insist on paying for the food himself and just generally get on her nerves.

"Look, I'm not entirely happy about this either," Harry told Dean. "I feel really nervous about making her angry, seeing as I really like her and everything and I feel really horrible that I'm probably going to ruin her night. I just have to know though. If, after this, it turns out that she isn't a witch, I'll accept it, drop it and carry on as normal. I just need this one night to try and find out for sure."

Dean sighed.

"Ok, but I'm reminding you that you said that tomorrow!" he said. "I know what you're like. I just don't want you to ruin what is possibly the best relationship you've ever been in because of some feeling you have."

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't going to get angry with Dean now, even though he was getting really wound up.

"Fine. Shouldn't you be off to try and find George again? I'm getting worried now; we haven't seen him since he was asleep on our sofa."

"Yeah, I'll go now. I was thinking I'd try the shop again," Dean said, stepping into the fireplace. "Ron says he hasn't been back home at all."

"I hope you find him. And give him a slap for scaring us all to death if you do!"

"Don't worry, mate," Dean smiled, "I'm planning on giving him one on behalf of each of us."

Harry smiled back at his friend, the animosity of the last few days forgotten. He knew Dean always meant well, even if it didn't seem that way sometimes.

...

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said, giving her boyfriend a quick kiss as she stepped inside. "I've brought dessert; a chocolate mousse and a cheesecake. I wasn't sure which you'd prefer, but since we always end up eating a hideous amount anyway, I thought I'd just bring both. I'll just put them in the fridge for later, shall I?"

"I'll do it," he said, quickly remembering what had happened with the wine at the party and taking the carrier bag from her.

"Don't start that again," she said, already sounding slightly annoyed and snatching the bag back. "I'll do it."

Harry smiled to himself as she stalked off to the kitchen. His smirk grew when he heard an "ugh!"

"Everything all right?" he called.

"I suppose so," she called back, "Your kitchen's just a bit... messier than usual."

'Messier' was an understatement. Hermione hated messes—her own house was always spotless. Harry had learnt a long time ago not to dare suggest leaving the washing up until the morning. Once Dean had left, (He would have never have let Harry deliberately mess up their kitchen. He got angry enough when he made a mess accidentally) Harry had spilled food everywhere, left dirty pans and plates all over the place and left milk on the kitchen table, knowing that smelly milk was one of Hermione's pet peeves.

"Yeah, I'll sort it out later," Harry replied, trying not to laugh. He joined her in the kitchen just in time for another shout of "ugh!"

"Are you OK?" he asked, avoiding a chuckle. As mean as he felt about everything, the sight of Hermione hopping around the kitchen, trying to take her sock off was very funny.

"I just trodded in a puddle of milk," she said, an edge beginning to creep into her voice, "and now my sock is going to smell. You know how fussy I am about milk!"

Harry seized the opportunity. "Well, I'm sorry, Hermione, I can't think how that got there, right in the doorway."

"You really need to clean up in here," Hermione responded haughtily.

"Shall we go in the living room? It's cleaner in there," Harry said. "We can relax and order some food." She sighed and followed him.

"So, what do you feel like eating?" she asked, flopping herself down on the sofa. "I was thinking pizza would be good tonight."

Harry couldn't think of any way to annoy her there. He'd been planning on insisting on getting any type of food other than what she said, but the trouble was, he really wanted pizza too. He wasn't going to deprive himself of what he wanted just to fulfil the plan! It was fine, though. She was getting quite annoyed with him already, so maybe he should slow down and do a few nice things for her. Besides, he had plenty more in store. Harry found the most expensive pizza menu he had and showed it to her.

"Harry, I didn't bring enough money with me to be able to pay for my share of something this expensive," Hermione exclaimed. "We never get anything like this! Haven't you got a cheaper one?"

"Well, yes, but you need to try this place's pizza. It's the best pizza you'll ever have. Just let me pay for it."

Hermione's lips thinned. He knew how much she hated people doing that, and she'd told him time and time again that she was always going to pay for her own share in things. He'd given up trying ages ago, after she'd nearly chewed his head off about it. He took her stony silence to mean that she was angry with him for trying to do it again. Good.

"Come on, babe," he said, knowing that Hermione hated any kind of pet name. She'd told him off once when he'd called her 'Hermy' in a misguided attempt to be cute. To be fair, it wasn't the best one he could've come up with. "Just let me treat you. It'll be my way of saying sorry for the milk incident. And a way of saying sorry for the fact that the only DVDs I could find to rent were action films."

Hermione's lips were barely even visible by this point, and Harry knew he was on the right track. She was actually really pretty when she was annoyed, although he probably wouldn't be thinking about that when the inevitable shouting came.

"If you pay now, I'll pay you back my share another time," she said stiffly. "And don't call me 'babe' ever again. I'm not some kind of brainless bimbo."

Harry left the room to order the pizza, leaving her to stew for a few minutes. Everything was going so well! He was lucky that she always had a short fuse after a bad day at work. He'd seen the effects of it before, when she'd been complaining about her receptionist, or one of her patients. It wasn't pretty, and he was dreading being on the receiving end of it all for once. If he was a less honest person, (Less honest than tricking his girlfriend into doing magic) he'd just _obliviate_ her. He'd rather do things that hard way though, with lots of grovelling and being the best boyfriend ever afterwards.

The time before the pizza came was spent looking through the DVDs he'd chosen to rent and watching Hermione screw her nose up at every single one of them. He felt strangely happy when the doorbell went, and he practically ran out of the room to get away from her bad mood, which reminded him of those muggle cartoons with the black storm cloud over a character's head.

He paid for the pizza and cast a strong cooling charm on it before taking it to the living room. He gave the box to Hermione, who responded with a strained smile.

"Harry, this is cold," she said, opening the box. "Didn't you notice when the deliveryman gave it to you?"

Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't think it was important. A bit of cold pizza never hurt anyone."

"I'm going to heat it up again," she replied shortly.

"Watch out for the milk this time," he called after her.

He heard a door slam, and Hermione shot back into the living room, slice of pizza in hand. "What is your problem tonight, Harry?" she snapped. "It seems like you've deliberately been trying to annoy me, and let me tell you, you've succeeded. You insisted on paying for me, which is something you haven't done for ages, you laughed at me when I stepped on your mess in the kitchen – don't deny it! I saw you – and you... you've... you've just generally got on my nerves! Have you decided you don't like me, or something? It's like you're trying to upset me on purpose or something! I could actually cry right now after the day I've had."

"First, my receptionist triple-books me, then I drag myself over here even though I'm exhausted, thinking that 'maybe relaxing with Harry is just what I need,' and you're not even letting me do that!"

Harry sat, shell-shocked and guilty. Knowing that the rant was coming hadn't made it any easier, and he hadn't meant to actually upset her, just annoy her, if there were any difference. He certainly didn't want to make her cry! He still couldn't help but smile though when he saw what he'd been looking for all night. The slice of pizza in Hermione's hand was burnt to a crisp, which it definitely hadn't been when she'd started shouting.

"What's so funny now? Have I got milk on my other foot?" she snarled at him.

"Hermione, look at the piece of pizza you're holding," Harry calmly explained to her.

Hermione looked, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"And as well as the pizza you ordered being cold, it's also burnt! This isn't helping my mood, Harry."

"Well, it wasn't burnt before you started shouting at me. Hermione, I'm sorry about everything," Harry softly told her, "Can I talk to you about something for a minute?"

...

Ten minutes later, it was Hermione who was sitting on the sofa, shell-shocked. She'd been angry at first, but had calmed down enough to listen as Harry had told her about himself and who he really was, and then about who he thought she really was. He'd left out the part about him being famous; he didn't want to overwhelm her. Harry could tell she was having trouble believing him as it was, without telling her that he'd saved the whole wizarding world and that he was a big war hero.

"So do you see why I think you might be a witch?" Harry asked after he'd finished listing all the things she'd done.

"Yes, I can see why you'd think that, but Harry, magic doesn't exist," she said carefully, "I'm just clumsy, and unlucky I suppose."

Harry got the feeling that Hermione was only being so calm because she thought her boyfriend had somehow turned into a madman. He summoned a cushion from across the room as she looked on in amazement.

"You did that with string or wires or something," Hermione spoke after a while. "Magic isn't real. I've seen magic shows. I know they're just tricks, and I didn't even believe in it when I was a kid."

"This isn't that type of magic," Harry explained, "This isn't about memorising packs of cards or optical illusions. This is something that's inside certain people. I don't know how it feels to you, but for me it's like my blood's heated up and is flowing faster through my veins. You must feel something similar."

"Well, I don't. That kind of magic's from children's books, video games, and films—_stories, _Harry. I'll admit that I don't know how I did some of those things, but it's nothing to do with magic."

Harry thought for a while, trying to think of something that couldn't be explained away by some kind of trick, before pointing his wand at his head and turning his hair a shade of pink that would've made Tonks proud. He looked at her expectantly. There was no way that could've been done by any muggle tricks and she knew it.

"Well," Hermione stammered, "O-OK. I don't know how you did that. Can I look at your... your wand?"

Harry nodded and handed it to her. She examined it in a way that he'd come to recognize as typical Hermione studying every single part of it in a great detail. She looked at the tip, ran her fingers up and down it, and even shook it a few times before Harry quickly took it from her.

"I know this is a huge thing to try and take in, especially after so many years of not knowing magic is real. It was hard enough for me after just eleven years. I was just like you; doing strange little things all the time, and finding out on my eleventh birthday that those things were magic. Suddenly those things weren't part of some freakish disorder like my aunt and uncle had kept telling me about. It's so new, and so very strange and unbelievable. I know. All I want you to do is come back to my old school with me and let the headmistress meet you. She'll be able to explain things a lot better than I can."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, I'm not sure I can even believe that you can do magic, never mind that maybe I can do it too. Say it does exist though, and I'm actually a witch. Even then, I don't want to be involved in all of that. If you're a wizard, there must be some kind of spell you can use to make me forget about all this. I don't want to know about it."

Harry paused, and then shook his head. Even if he wanted to_ obliviate _her, he couldn't in the state she was in. Some of the things she said were implying that she was starting to believe in magic, but then she also said straight out that she didn't believe in it too. She was very confused and it would take someone very skilled with memory charms to erase her memories of magic. If not even she couldn't understand what she was thinking herself, no one else had a chance. It was too complicated to explain all that though. Besides, he didn't want her to forget about any of it.

"No," he lied, "I can't make you forget all of this. I know you're scared—"

"I'm not scared," she cut in, "I'm terrified! My nice, normal boyfriend suddenly decides to tell me that everything he's told me before has been a lie and that he's a _wizard, _and then he tells me that I'm a witch! The only reason I haven't run away from you is because I think I know you and I'm pretty sure you're not a crazy person."

Harry wasn't sure how to reply. He wanted to thank her for saying that he wasn't crazy, but there were more important things to think about. Despite being scared of the row he knew would happen, he'd been really excited when he'd found out he was right. He didn't understand how she could listen to everything he'd said and then not fully believe it. He also didn't understand how Hermione could just decide that she wanted nothing to do with magic. When he'd found out he was a wizard, he'd been really excited and couldn't wait to get started at Hogwarts. He supposed he was much younger when he'd found out, though. He hadn't had a life, unless you counted a continuous cycle of cooking, going to school, being bullied, coming home, being bullied some more, more cooking and sleeping under the stairs as a life, which he didn't. Hermione had a good job, friends, and a routine that she'd been in for years. It would be much harder for her to leave that behind than it had been for him all those years ago. He needed to say something to convince her though. He had to get her to at least give it a try.

Before he could think of anything, the fire flashed green and a dark shape appeared in the flames. He must've forgotten to block the floo. Hermione squealed, but then stared into the flames as a figure stepped out onto the hearth, although she tried to hide her fascination. Harry noticed how interested she was; maybe it wouldn't be too hard to convince her after all.

"It's one of the ways we travel," he explained to her quickly, before turning back to see an angry-looking Angelina starting towards them.

"_You_," Angelina spat, "I want some answers from you! Where's George?"

"I don't know, Ang," Harry replied, "Dean's out looking for him now."

"I wasn't asking you," she snapped. "I was talking to your girlfriend there."

"Yeah, this is Hermione, by the way. I'm glad the two of you have finally met," he said sarcastically. He hated Angelina when she was in one of her moods. It was so unlike the girl he knew in school. He hated how the war had changed some people. "She doesn't know where he is. Why would she?"

"Because when he came in wasted from your little party, which I told him several times not to let you lot get him drunk at by the way, I read his mind before I kicked him out. Sorry," she said to Hermione, obviously thinking she wouldn't understand what she meant.

"Hermione knows about all that, as of tonight. And Ang, that's not fair," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's whispered, "you can read minds?" He wanted to explain everything to her, but this wasn't the time.

"Well he was acting very strangely and I wanted to know why."

"You could've just asked him."

"My way was easier. He was so drunk thanks to you lot that he didn't even notice, and I'm nowhere near the best _legilimens_ in the world so that's saying something! I suppose I should actually thank you lot for that. Anyway, I could see a lot of hazy memories about a little skinny drunk _slut_ who threw herself at him. I'm guessing she's one of Hermione's lot, seeing as she isn't one of your exclusive group of friends," she sneered. "So, who is she?"

"Her name is Rebecca," Hermione said through gritted teeth, and Harry could tell that she was doing her best to keep calm, after recent events. "And she is _not _a slut!"

"Well why was she kissing my boyfriend then? She must've known about me!"

Hermione opened her mouth but then closed it again. Harry knew that Rebecca _had _known about Angelina.

"I'm not saying what Rebecca did was right," she said finally, "but it was only a kiss, and it's not like George didn't kiss her back. Surely he's equally at fault."

"Well that's just typical George! He doesn't like to upset anyone, and your friend was so trashed that he wasn't going to say anything to her when she was obviously going to be really emotional."

"Did you see all that in his mind too?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "Or are you just trying to make excuses for him?"

"No, as far as I'm concerned he didn't do anything wrong. I love George, and once he apologises, we can start to work through all this. We have a very strong relationship," she told Hermione. "I just wanted to check that what I'd seen was correct."

"If you really did have a strong relationship, you'd be able to talk to him about it. In fact, you wouldn't even need to talk about it, because this wouldn't have happened in the first place."

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. Hermione had a habit of telling people exactly what she thought, and while he liked that she spoke her mind, he wished she'd judge situations better and learn to bite her tongue sometimes. Angelina didn't like people telling her what to do or disagreeing with her, probably because she liked doing it to other people so much. She wasn't going to take it well.

"Don't _you _start judging me too!" Angelina shouted, raising herself up to her full height and towering over Hermione. "I know people talk about George and me. I even know that some people," she said pointedly to Harry, "have told him to break up with me. You don't even know him, so don't you say anything! I know George must've had his reasons for what he did. Your friend had no reasons though, except having no morals, not caring about anyone else's feelings and just being a – a _slut!"_

Hermione didn't reply, but let out an angry growl. Harry looked at her and saw that she was bright red in the face, with her hair frizzing out from her head. It seemed to be – crackling? He knew what was coming and quickly cast a shield charm around himself and Angelina. He felt the force of her magic hit the shield hard, so hard in fact that he was afraid that it might break it. When it was over, he sat her down. She did so immediately, tears streaming down her face as for the first time, she understood what she'd done.

Angelina's mouth opened and closed, but she seemed to have run out of things to say. Had this been any other time, Harry would have made some kind of snide comment, but he stopped himself.

"Ang, you should go," he said.

His tone left no room for argument, but Angelina didn't look like she actually could argue this time, and she practically ran back towards the fireplace and left. Harry blocked it behind her and turned back to Hermione.

"You felt that one, didn't you?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and wiped her eyes.

"Listen," he told her, "I know you want to forget about all this, but I was worried that the force of your magic was going to break my shield, and I can cast a strong shield. If you don't learn how to control this, you could end up seriously hurting someone, maybe killing them. Please just come to Hogwarts with me tomorrow, just to get some advice on how to handle it?"

"Ok," she sniffed, "I'll give this whole magic thing a go."


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow! I got carried away with this chapter! I've had to split it up, otherwise it would've gone on for ages. That's good news though, because it means that as long as I get them to Dreamre Ginny in the Clouds quickly, the next few chapters will be up quickly. Sorry this one took so long. I was away on tour with my orchestra and I completely forgot to send it to her to beta and send back in time before I went away. She's doing an amazing job though and she's working very hard at curing what she calls my "said fever," so a huge thank you to her!  
**

**Thanks for all the reviews and everything for the last chapter. It makes me happy when I see my inbox the morning after I put a chapter up, so please keep doing it if you like what I'm doing!

* * *

**Harry had never known Hermione to be so quiet. For the rest of the evening, she sat in silence, just sipping her tea, nodding and occasionally saying,"mmhmm," as Harry planned out the next few days. Obviously, Hogwarts was the first place they had to visit so that McGonagall could give them a proper plan of action, but there were so many other things that Hermione would have to do too. Muggle or not, she was still going to need to live in the wizarding world, even if it was just a little bit.

"We'll need to go to Diagon Alley too. You can buy your books and everything there. Oh, and your wand, obviously. And you'll need to open an account at Gringotts. That's the bank; it's run by goblins. That could be tricky, seeing as I tried to trick one of the most important ones once... Never mind. You'll need to be measured for robes as well. I don't know whether you'll need school ones, but we all wear them when we get together in the wizarding world, so you should probably have a few sets. You might want to get an owl or something while you're at it. It'll be useful for sending letters when I'm not around."

He paused, realising Hermione seemed to have stopped listening. "Are you OK, Hermione?"

She was staring into space, a faraway expression on her face, but jumped and looked at Harry when she realised he'd asked her something. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you OK? You seem a bit distracted."

He kicked himself. Of course she was distracted; he'd dropped an enormous bombshell on her. He looked at her apologetically, to which she gave a weak smile.

"I'm fine, just a bit tired. I think I should head homeand get some sleep. Things might make a bit more sense in the morning once all this has sunk in. Besides, if we're going to Hogwarts tomorrow, I'd better get a good night's sleep."

"Do you want to stay here?" he asked her. They hadn't spent the night together since the incident after the party, not even just to sleep. He'd been too scared to in case the same thing happened again, and he thought she might be a bit insulted if he just got into bed next to her and went straight to sleep every night.

"Oh no, it's fine," she replied, "I think I need my own bed tonight, and I'm kind of embarrassed about what happened last time. Again, I'm really sorry about that."

"It's alright. It wasn't your fault," he told her. "We're going to get this all sorted out and then you can stay as often as you want without feeling worried, OK? I'll come and get you in the morning. Is it alright if I just pop up in your living room or something, rather than get up really early and walk over?"

"I suppose so," Hermione said in a daze, looking confused.

"I'm really sorry for springing this on you tonight." He paused, thinking about what he should say next. "I know it's not easy, and I didn't go about it in the most sensitive way, but you're going to be fine. You can be as involved in the wizarding world as you want. Most wizards these days live in both."

"No, don't apologise, Harry. It was a bit of a shock, but I'm glad you told me. My ma…_magic_ obviously needs to be controlled," explained Hermione. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Not breaking things all the time would be nice! As far as being involved in the wizarding world goes, I suppose I won't know about that until I try, will I?"

Harry nodded in agreement and handed Hermione her handbag and the leftover cheesecake.

"Let me know when you're home," he said. He'd got into the habit of getting her to text him when she got back to her house so he knew she'd got back safely. He didn't know how to read text messages on his phone; he'd never really been into muggle technology, but he assumed when his phone beeped that it was her.

"Do you actually know how to use that thing, Harry, being a wizard and everything?" she asked.

"Well, no. Dean does though and he'll be back in a bit," he laughed.

Hermione joined in, laughing for the first time that night.

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

...

Harry was still up an hour later, despite his promises to Hermione that he'd get an early night too, seeing as they had a big day ahead of them. He was definitely ready to go to bed; he kept dozing off on the sofa. His phone had beeped though, and he was sure it was her, but he was waiting for Dean just to make sure.

Just as he forced his eyes open and made himself sit up straight again, Dean apparated into the living room, holding a very scruffy and tired-looking George.

"Budge up, Harry. George is sleeping here tonight," Dean said, helping George lie down. "We'll talk tomorrow, mate," he reassured George in a low voice. "Get some sleep for now."

George opened his mouth to say something, but yawned instead and fell asleep almost instantly. Harry looked his older friend up and down, taking in the dirty clothes, greasy hair and stubble that was verging on being a beard and looked at Dean, who didn't seem as bothered as he usually did by the mess. He gestured to the kitchen.

"He's in a bad way," Dean said once they were away from him. "He hasn't eaten or slept in days I don't think. I found him in the Hog's Head, stinking of firewhiskey and mumbling about some guilty feeling that won't go away. I told him he could stay here as long as he wants."

"He kissed Rebecca after our party," Harry confessed quietly, "We had Angelina charging in and shooting her mouth off about that earlier."

"That must've been fun for you," Dean said amusedly, making a face. "I _thought _he said something about Rebecca just before we apparated actually, but I didn't want to

ask him about it or push it or anything considering the state he was in. I thought I'd probably misheard him anyway. Why can't he just leave Angelina? Well, I know why he thinks he can't, but he's miserable."

"Maybe he'll see it this time, once he's talked to us and let it all out," Harry added hopefully.

"Doubt it, mate," replied Dean. "He'll give her 'one more chance' for the hundredth time, you know that. How did Hermione cope with Angelina, by the way?"

"Not great," Harry admitted somewhat sheepishly. He couldn't help grinning though when he added, "She nearly cursed Angelina into next week with accidental magic."

Dean's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "No way! She really did it?"

"Yeah, we're going to Hogwarts in the morning to talk to McGonagall about it." Harry was beaming now.

"Well, that's great, Harry. Really unusual, but great!" Dean buzzed with excitement, forgetting to keep his voice down.

They both froze as they heard movement from the living room. George was awake.

"Should we go and talk to him?" Harry asked.

"No, let him go back to sleep. He needs it. So do you, actually, seeing as you've got such a busy day tomorrow! Go on; get to bed! I'll see you in the morning if I'm up."

...

Hermione sent her text to Harry to let him know she was home and then flopped down on her bed. She was exhausted; it'd been a lot of information to take in, even for her! What were the chances of this happening? What were the chances of her finding a boyfriend who happens to be a wizard, and then him noticing that she was a witch? _A witch._She couldn't quite understand that. She'd been so sure Harry was talking nonsense, and had been really scared for a minute that her nice, normal boyfriend was some kind of madman.

Then she'd seen all that magic: the flying cushions, the pink hair, Anglina stepping out of the _fire. _There was no explaining all that away, although she'd tried her hardest to think of any way to do so to begin with. Then she'd felt it herself, and there was no way she could pretend it was all some kind of elaborate joke. Everything made sense now. Or, at least, she was sure it would if her brain wasn't going in all different directions at one hundred miles an hour. She needed sleep; tomorrow she was going to Harry's old school and she would see lots of new, confusing things. She was going to visit a completely different world from the one she'd been living in for twenty-one years. It wouldn't be any good to go feeling as drained and confused as this.

She got into bed, lay down and turned off her lamp. A few minutes and a lot of tossing and turning later, she turned the lamp back on. No, this wasn't going to work. She couldn't stop replaying the events of the evening in her mind. There was no hope of getting to sleep just yet. Maybe she should phone Rebecca and tell her about the whole Angelina incident. That would be that part of the night off her mind then at least. It was late, but Rebecca wouldn't mind her phoning. She'd done the same to her enough times. They were really close, and had been ever since they'd met in university. They'd been really good for each other. Rebecca had got Hermione to leave the library occasionally and go out and have fun. They were still exactly the same now, and that's probably why they were still such good friends—they balanced each other out.

"Hello?" Rebecca said in a sleepy voice. "'Mione?"

Hermione smiled to herself. That was the one nickname she didn't mind. It had started in the same way most stories about Rebecca started, with her being completely wasted one night. It'd been one of the first nights they'd ever been out together, and Rebecca had been so drunk that she couldn't say Hermione's name. The next morning, when Hermione had filled Rebecca in on the parts of the nights she couldn't remember, her friend had laughed at that bit and the nickname had stuck ever since.

"Hey, Bec. Have I woken you up?"

"Yeah, but I'd only just got to sleep anyway. Are you OK? It's very late for you to still be up."

"I can't sleep. I was just at Harry's—"

She was interrupted by a giggle.

"No, _that's _not why I can't sleep! It was just a rather eventful night. Angelina turned up."

"Angelina?"

"You know, George's girlfriend."

"Oh."

"Yeah. She'd found out about you somehow and she wasn't best pleased. In fact, she shouted at me quite a lot," Hermione explained to her friend, trying not to sound too annoyed.

Rebecca groaned.

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione! I hope it didn't ruin your night too much."

"Not at all," Hermione smirked. "I shouted back at her. You know me; no one can possibly win an argument against me."

"That's true," Rebecca laughed. "We've certainly given up trying! Ugh, I don't know what George sees in her. He's such a nice guy."

"Well, it's a long story," Hermione sighed. Harry had told her some of the details earlier. "She used to go out with his twin, but then he was killed in," she stopped short, regaining herself quickly, "an accident, so now she's clinging to him because he's the only thing she has left that reminds her of him. It's all very sad. That doesn't change the fact that she's a nasty piece of work though. And she said she wasn't going to break up with him, so I'm just hoping that he gets the courage to dump her."

"Yeah, I hope so too. He really is a lovely guy. I mean, he hardly knew me and he still took me home and looked after me when I was a mess. And he didn't try anything funny either. I, on the other hand..." She began to laugh.

"I know," Hermione replied tiredly. A thought suddenly struck her and she felt her blood run cold for a minute. "You wouldn't be interested in him if he broke up with Angelina would you?"

"God no!" Rebecca said quickly, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She'd thought briefly before that the two of them would actually make a good couple, but now that she knew the truth about George, she wasn't so sure it would work. "'Mione, I was wasted and was a bit too grateful for him helping me out. I hardly remember anything about him really, except that he was nice to me. I like him the best of all Harry's friends, though. I think we'll get on well at any other parties or whatever, as long as that insane witch isn't getting in the way."

Hermione nearly burst out laughed at Rebecca calling Angelina that. She didn't realise how true it was! However, it really made her want to tell Rebecca everything else that had happened. Harry hadn't told her she couldn't tell anyone about it, although he probably just assumed she'd realise that it probably wasn't a very good idea to. She wasn't used to keeping things from Rebecca though, and really wanted to see what her friend thought about the whole situation, if she could convince her she hadn't gone completely mad. Hermione supposed that she just wanted reassurance that it wasn't going to change anything between them. She didn't want to lose Rebecca because she didn't know where she'd be without her. It'd certainly put her mind at ease and help her sleep if she told her.

"Something else happened too tonight, Bec," she finally said. "If I tell you, do you promise to believe me? And not to judge me or hate me or anything?"

"Of course," Rebecca said. "What happened?"

"Well, you know how I keep breaking things?"

"Yes, I have noticed that once or twice," her friend teased. "What about it?"

"Well," Hermione began, taking a deep breath, "apparently, it's because I'm a witch. I haven't been trained or taught how to use magic, so it bursts out when I'm angry, for example, and breaks things."

Rebecca was silent, which Hermione didn't take as a good sign, but she carried on.

"Harry's a wizard, and he'd noticed little things about me that he thought were strange, so tonight he tried to trick me into it. He made me really angry and as I was shouting at him, the piece of pizza I was holding turned black in my hand. We're going to this magic school place tomorrow where he and all his friends went to talk to the headmistress and see what can be done about it."

There was still silence on the other end of the line.

"Rebecca?"

"Hermione, don't go anywhere with him! This sounds dangerous! How can you possibly believe that?"

"No, honestly, it's true! He made a cushion fly across the room, turned his own hair pink and then Angelina stepped out of the fire when she came to shout at me. It's one of the ways they travel, apparently."

"People can't travel through fire, Hermione. They'd get _burned," _Rebecca declared as if she was talking to a six year old. "Did Harry make you any drinks where you couldn't see him or anything like that? I can't believe it! I actually _liked _him."

"He didn't slip me anything," Hermione sighed. "It's the kind of thing you have to see to believe. I shouldn't have told you over the phone. I'll show you when I get back tomorrow."

"Hermione! You can't go! It's not safe! I'll call the police if you do!"

Hermione shook her head despite the fact that Rebecca couldn't see her. She shouldn't have said anything. She herself hadn't believed it even when she'd been told by a wizard who'd demonstrated magic to her. How could she have expected Rebecca to believe her when she couldn't even explain it properly or give her any proof?

"Look, Bec, I'm going. You can't win an argument with me, remember? I'll come round to yours as soon as I get back so you know I'm alright, I promise. In fact, we're going really early, so if I'm not back by say, lunchtime, then you can call the police. We're going to Scotland."

"_Scotland? _You think you're going to _Scotland _and that you'll be back by lunchtime?" Rebecca squeaked, her voice rising in pitch. If it had been any other time, Hermione would have laughed. She'd never heard her friend sound so much like her before! "I wish Catherine were here. She deals with this kind of stuff every day. She'd know what to say to get you to see sense."

"Don't say anything to Catherine!" Hermione practically shouted. Besides being a psychiatrist, Catherine was also incredibly superstitious and Hermione had no idea how she was going to tell her everything without being shouted at or sectioned.

"Fine. I won't for now. Listen, if you have any common sense, which I know you do, you won't go. Either way, I expect to see you at lunchtime. If you don't show, I'm phoning the police."

"Fine," Hermione said defiantly. "I'll see you when I get back."

"Don't be like that, 'Mione," pleaded Rebecca, her voice returning to normal. "I'm just worried about you. You're not the type to believe in all this rubbish."

"I didn't think I was either. I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry for waking you up."

Hermione turned her lamp off again. It wasn't going to be any easier to sleep after that. It hadn't really helped at all, but then how could she have expected it to? Telling Rebecca wasn't one of her best ideas. The most she could do now was try and get some sleep before Harry 'popped up' in the morning.

...

It was more a crack than a pop, she realised as she jumped what felt like a mile in the air while she was getting dressed.

"Only me," a voice called from downstairs.

"Come on up," she called back.

She heard another crack and a split-second later, he appeared right next to her, causing her to jump again and fall back onto her bed. So wizards could transport themselves through thin air it seemed. It was a bit strange, but no stranger than travelling through fire, she supposed.

"You could've just used the stairs," she said with a grin. Watching Harry doing magic seemed a lot more normal already after a night's rest. When she'd been a little girl, one of her mother's favourite mottos was "it'll make more sense after you've had a nice long sleep," and she supposed it was true. That said, she still felt a little bit sick with nerves every time she thought of having to do that kind of thing herself.

"Could've done, but didn't feel like it," he laughed. "Besides, I thought it'd be good to give you a preview of how we're going to get to Hogwarts."

"I'm going to do that?" she asked nervously, the sick feeling returning.

"Well, no. I'm going to do that and you're going to hold on. It's not particularly pleasant, just to warn you. It's better when you can do it yourself. There's a test you can do at some point if you want, a bit like a muggle driving test."

Hermione secretly thought that there was no way that she was going to make herself disappear into thin air, but didn't say so to Harry and just nodded instead. He offered her his arm in return.

"Let's go then, shall we?"

...

They apparated just outside the main gates of Hogwarts. Hermione stumbled slightly when they touched down on the ground. Harry was prepared though and caught her.

"Are you OK?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she replied, her breathing returning to normal as he rubbed circles on her back. "You were right, that wasn't nice. Is this Hogwarts?"

"Yes, this is it." A feeling of pride swelled up inside him at the sight of his old school. "It's not bad, is it?"

"It's amazing," said Hermione at a slight loss for words. "I can't believe you went to school in a castle."

"Wait 'til you see the library," Harry told her. "You'll love it. I'll just let someone know we're here."

He cast a patronus charm and sent it into the grounds to find someone. He hoped it wasn't Filch; he didn't want him to be the first person she met in Hogwarts. Squinting at the figure in the distance, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Hi, Harry," Neville greeted him warmly as he unlocked the gate. "Haven't seen you for a while."

"Yeah, well if you will live in Scotland, Nev," Harry joked. "Is McGonagall here? This is Hermione, and we need to see her."

"Hi, Hermione," Neville smiled. "Minerva's up in her office. I would take you up myself, but I've got third years to try and control. They're very excited that Harry Potter's here!"

Harry smiled, but he knew that he was going to be interrogated by Hermione as soon as Neville was gone because of that remark.

"It's OK. We'll make our way up now. I might give Hermione a tour as we go. It was great to see you again, Nev. You'll have to come down and catch up with us sometime, or we'll all come to Hogsmeade."

"Yeah, definitely. I'll see you soon," Neville said. "I'd better be getting back. We're potting mandrakes."

"He seems nice," Hermione said as Neville left.

"Yeah, he was in my year at school," Harry explained. "He's great. Brilliant with plants."

"Are those plants moving?" Hermione asked nervously, squinting into the distance that Neville had retreated to. "Am I going to have to do that too?"

"Don't worry, it's easier than it looks, and Neville's a really good teacher. Come on," he said, hoping to get her moving before the plants started screaming, "let's head up to the castle."

They walked through the grounds and up to the main entrance of the castle in silence while Hermione took everything in. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, Harry knew what was coming. It was only a matter of time before Hermione's curious nature got the better of her.

"So, why were Neville's pupils all so excited to see you?" she asked.

"Well, it's a long story," he said, opening the door. "Remember what I was saying about the war and Voldemort and everything? Well, I had a bigger part in it all than I let on. To give you the quick version, it was Voldemort who gave me this scar when he tried to kill me when I was a baby and he ended up almost killing himself, and then he tried to kill me several more times when he came back. I was the only person who could kill him, and I did, obviously. I didn't want to overload you with information last night, but I'm kind of famous here."

Hermione looked at him, open-mouthed.

"It's strange, but I actually believe that," she laughed. "Wow, so my boyfriend's a huge war hero then?"

"I suppose so," he said, blushing slightly. Lots of people had called him that, but it felt strange admitting it to Hermione. She didn't fully understand what had happened and what he'd had to do. He'd explain it all to her another time when she didn't have so much going on. It was best for her to get to grips with Hogwarts first.

"You suppose so?" a voice asked indignantly. "You're far too modest, my boy! You saved us all."

Harry turned round, but there was no one there except a portrait of some wizarding poet with a long beard holding a quill.

"Did that portrait just talk?" Hermione asked. "Wait, is that portrait _moving?"_

"Of course I am. What am I supposed to do?" he asked, jabbing his quill at her. "Just stand completely still? I'm not young enough for that. My joints'll seize up."

He flounced off to another portrait somewhere, leaving just an empty picture of a library.

"It's magic. Don't ask me how it's done," he laughed. "Come on, we'll have to hurry if we're going to catch the staircase."

He carried on walking up the corridor, but Hermione was frozen to the spot, looking questioningly at the portrait, as if it was going to jump off the wall and run away.

"Hermione, come on!"

"What do you mean, 'catch the staircase?'" she asked as she walked quickly to catch up with him.

Harry didn't have to answer her though, as at that exact moment, it swung around so the bottom step was at their feet. Sensing Hermione's nervousness—the closest thing she'd seen to this would have been an escalator, and that wasn't really that close at all—he took a few steps and held out his hand to her. She took a deep breath and stood on the first step. When she seemed satisfied that it wasn't going to move again, she went to the next one. It was a slow process getting her upstairs, and she gripped the banister and looked at her feet the whole time, but they eventually reached the top. She smiled at Harry, and he felt a surge of pride. If she had to be Sorted, he had a feeling she might be put into Gryffindor.

They soon reached the gargoyle that guarded the headmistress' office, where McGonagall was already waiting for them. Harry was relieved; he didn't want to be standing there for ages trying to guess the password. She looked them both up and down with her usual no-nonsense stare, before smiling warmly at them.

"Hello, Harry," she said, "And you must be Hermione. Well, come upstairs and we'll have some fruitcake and a chat. There's no point standing around in the corridors, especially not while Peeves is about!"

Although Hermione flinched when she saw the poltergeist the woman was referring to, she didn't seem as nervous as she'd been about the portrait or the stairs. She didn't know what Peeves was like, Harry thought with a wry smile, but he was pleased; she was obviously adapting to the wizarding world quickly. He had a feeling she'd really like Hogwarts, although of course he couldn't see how anyone wouldn't.

"I'd like to show you the memory straight away, Professor," he said excitedly the minute they stepped into her office. "It's a really good one, really shows the magic obviously."

Without waiting for his former teacher's reply, which he was sure would be something about not getting his hopes up, he put his wand to his temple and pulled out the memory. Hermione gasped at the sight, but didn't say anything.

"This is a pensieve, Hermione," he told her. He didn't want her to feel confused about anything or left out. "I've just taken a memory from my head, and I'm going to put it in this basin so Professor McGonagall can see it and tell us what she thinks."

"You can look at people's memories?" Hermione asked. "That must be very interesting, and so useful! You'd be able to tell when people were lying to you, and it must make things much easier for the police, or whatever it is you have. Sorry," she said, blushing. "You already know all that. It's just so strange to think that you can do that."

"That's alright, Miss Granger." McGonagall smiled. "I'll just take a look at this. You and Harry wait here. I should only be a few minutes. No, Mr. Potter, you may not come with me," she said sternly, seeing Harry open his mouth. "I don't need a running commentary from you, thank you very much. Help yourselves to fruitcake and tea."

Harry gestured to the two seats in front of McGonagall's desk, and flicked his wand in the direction of the cake, bringing a plate to each of them.

"I wish I could've gone with her," Hermione admitted, nodding towards the pensieve. "I'd have liked to have a look at my own memory."

"You wouldn't have found it strange?" Harry asked her.

"No, it would have been fascinating! Well, it _would_ be a little strange, but all of this is and I still like it. What do you think she's going to say?"

"I know what she's going to say," Harry smiled.

As if on cue, McGonagall emerged from the pensieve and sat behind her desk. She looked slightly confused, but she didn't seem angry or stressed by what she'd just seen.

"Well, Miss Granger," she said in a voice slightly weaker than usual, "it seems that Harry's right. You're a witch, and a very powerful one at that it seems. I think it's important that you attend Hogwarts and learn to control your magic immediately."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everyone! This chapter hasn't been beta'd, so I'm really sorry for any mistakes. I'm not sure what's happened with Dreamer Ginny, but I'm guessing she's having computer problems or something because she hasn't been able to send it back to me or reply to my messages. Anyway, I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer, because I know it's been a long time, so I've decided to put this chapter up anyway. I hope you all like it; I'm not sure about this one, but I needed to write it so I can start with all the fun stuff Hermione's going to do in the next few chapters, which I'm really excited about writing!**

**Thanks for all the reviews and adding to alerts and faves and everything! I'm currently struggling through five or six very boring uni books, so some reviews would make me very happy...

* * *

**With bleary eyes, Dean looked at the clock on his bedside table. Half past nine. He groaned and rolled over; he'd missed Harry, so there was no point getting up until it was time for work. He was wide awake though, he realised to his annoyance. Maybe he could actually make some breakfast today for once, instead of starting his day with lunch. He sat bolt upright suddenly, remembering what else had happened last night as well as what he and Harry had been talking about. Yes, he should definitely get down to the kitchen before George tried to make anything himself and ruined his nice clean worktops.

When he got to the kitchen, however, it was obvious that George hadn't been in there yet; there was no food left out, no spillages, nothing in the sink. Dean felt nervous suddenly. It could just be that his friend hadn't woken up, but he had a feeling that that wasn't what had happened. Moving at a speed that surprised him, it being so early, he ran into his living room. George was gone again.

"Oh no," Dean said to himself, folding the blanket that had been thrown onto the floor. "You are _not _wandering off again, George. We're talking about this _tonight. _The cushions still smell of firewhiskey after the last two times. I'm not letting you disappear and get drunk again."

He got dressed in the first things he could grab from his wardrobe, not caring if they didn't match for once. He dragged a comb through his hair, before deciding that there was no time to go through his fifteen minute styling routine, and ran down to the living room again.

"Unlucky, George," he muttered as he scraped the last of the floo powder together. "I'm up early today, and I have hours to find you."

...

Unaware of the drama unfolding at home, Harry and Hermione were still sitting in McGonagall's office, calmly picking at their second slice of fruitcake and listening to the headmistress come up with a plan.

"This is the best timing we could hope for. Well, perhaps the best timing would have been ten years ago," the old witch smiled, "but in terms of the school year, this is perfect. You can get your wand and your books and study them with Harry over the summer holiday, and then come back in September to start Hogwarts with the rest of the first years. Now, I know I have a copy of the letters we send out to new students somewhere."

She waved her wand at the shelves behind her until several sheets of parchment flew out and landed on the desk in front of Hermione.

"Here you have your list of uniform items, equipment and your reading list. Mr. Potter, I'm sure you'll be more than happy to take Miss Granger to Diagon Alley, won't you? Good," McGonagall said, a shadow of a smirk crossing her face as Harry nodded enthusiastically. "You can get everything you'll need from there, and you can help her understand the basics before she arrives, as I think we'll need to arrange some sort of 'fast-track scheme,' as the muggles call it. I don't think you'll want to be in school for seven years, will you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione, who had unsuccessfully been trying to read the reading list and listen to McGonagall at the same time, jumped when she realised she was being spoken to.

"No, I think still being in school at twenty-nine would be a bit strange," she laughed. "It's a long time to put my life on hold too."

"Well, there are two options as far as I can see. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you take exams with the rest of the students so that we can keep an eye on your progress, especially as you're an unusual case. However, seeing as you're older than the rest of the students, and most likely more powerful than them too, I see no reason why you can't take your first three years in one year, your fourth and fifth years in another, and if you want, your sixth and seventh in another, meaning you're in school for three years."

"That sounds like a lot of work, Professor," Harry cut in worriedly. "She'd have to take all her subjects from the beginning, including the extra ones in third year. Surely she could just do her first two years in a year and then her O. in another two? She doesn't need to take her N.E. really, does she?"

"I'd like to, though," Hermione interjected before her new headmistress could reply. "I don't mind hard work, you know that, Harry. In fact, I rather enjoy it. It's better than not having anything to do. Besides, I've always liked to gain as many qualifications as I can. Look," she insisted, noticing the uncertain look on her boyfriend's face, "it's not like I have the brain of an eleven year old. I'm twenty-one; I can cope with a bit extra."

"We can always see how it goes, I suppose" Harry told her, knowing that this was going to be an argument he wouldn't win. "It _is _a lot of work though, and you won't see it until it all piles up on you. If you're sure it's what you want though, you can do it that way."

Hermione nodded and smiled, although her calmness did nothing to ease Harry's concerns. He didn't want to upset her; he didn't want her to get upset with anything to do with the wizarding world, especially not on the first day, and he knew she liked reading and working. It was just that he knew how stressed she could get, and he didn't want to see her upset for the next three years. He smiled to himself though when he realised that he could still see the pair of them together in the future.

"In that case," McGonagall said briskly, obviously trying to avoid any disagreements, "I'll need you to select some classes from this list to take as part of what would be your third year. The ones you choose, as well as the compulsory classes, will be the ones you will take your O.W.L examinations in at the end of your second year here."

Hermione studied the list for a few minutes, taking great care to read the descriptions and requirements, before turning to Harry and McGonagall.

"How many do I need to choose?" she asked. "They all look so interesting."

"I'd do two," Harry advised. "You don't want to overwork yourself. I think you'd hate divination, so I wouldn't recommend that. The professor's very anti-books. There's no need for you to do muggle studies either really, seeing as you know all about it anyway."

"It'd be fascinating to see it from a wizard's point of view though. I wish I could give them all a try," she sighed. "I suppose you're right though, Harry. I can always read about the others even if I don't take classes in them here. In that case, I'd like to do arithmancy and the study of ancient runes, please."

Harry tried not to visibly wince. She would pick the two most difficult subjects, wouldn't she? That was just typical Hermione. She'd probably really enjoy them too, which he found hard to understand. He shook his head amusedly as McGonagall added the books for the two subjects to the reading list with a flick of her wand and Hermione's face lit up as the list grew much longer.

"Well, now that we've got everything sorted, there's nothing left to say except 'see you in September, Miss Granger,'" McGonagall smiled. "There's no need for you to come on the train; just floo here on the first day. That's probably the best way to get you home each night too."

Hermione nodded, and Harry was pleased to see that all her nervousness seemed to be gone, and that she seemed to actually be excited by the prospect of going to Hogwarts. He knew she would be though, once she'd seen it and got used to seeing magic everywhere.

"What time is it, Professor?" she asked.

"It's half past ten," Harry answered for her. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," she started with a grin, "seeing as I don't have to meet my friend until lunchtime, is there a class I could attend now? I'd like to see what it involves."

Harry chuckled to himself. Now that really _was _keen, but he was actually quite excited to go back into one of the classrooms too.

"As it happens, there's a first year potions class that's just started," McGonagall told her. "Mr. Potter, why don't you take Miss Granger down to the dungeons? Maybe Horace will even let you do some brewing, Miss Granger, if you're lucky. He'll be very excited to meet Harry Potter's girlfriend," the headmistress said with a smirk.

Hermione looked confused, but let Harry take her down to the dungeons. They didn't speak as they walked - Hermione was too busy looking around at all the portraits, and the moving suits of armour and the ghosts to think about making conversation - although she was still a bit wary of the staircases and asked Harry to hold her hand every time they had to use one.

When they finally entered the dungeon after a long walk through the castle, it erupted into chaos, with children chattering and pointing excitedly at Harry. It was Professor Slughorn who seemed the most excited though, struggling out of his chair and bounding (as much as it was possible for him to do so) towards them.

"Harry, m'boy!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here? Come to impart some of your brilliant knowledge of potions to these youngsters? This, class," he said, silencing the students, "is one of the best potions students I have ever taught."

Harry blushed. Apparently Slughorn had never found out that all Harry's knowledge of potions had actually come from Snape's book. He hoped whatever the first years were brewing was easy!

"Well, actually, Professor, I've brought you one of your future students. This is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger, and she's going to be attending Hogwarts next year. I'm sure Professor McGonagall will explain everything at a later date. We've just been to see her to discuss arrangements, and she suggested we came to your class to give Hermione an idea of how things work."

"Wonderful idea," Slughorn beamed, obviously thrilled to have met someone as important as Harry Potter's girlfriend. "Right, class. Calm down and carry on with that potion. I'll be collecting samples at the end."

He beckoned Harry and Hermione over to an empty desk at the back of the room and sat down to talk to them.

"So, Hermione," he began. "Pardon my saying so, but you seem rather old to be attending Hogwarts. Are you a pureblood?"

Harry sighed. Old habits died hard with some people, but he knew Slughorn couldn't help it. Either way, he knew Hermione was going to be made part of the Slug Club, which undoubtedly still existed.

"No, I'm a muggleborn," Hermione explained. "I had no idea I was a witch until Harry told me that what I thought was just me being clumsy was actually accidental magic."

"Ah, so it's thanks to Harry you're here then. He's got a knack for spotting little things like that, hasn't he? It was that sort of intuition that set him apart from the others in terms of potion-making. Well, any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine!"

Harry almost laughed, but turned it into a cough. He was surprised that Slughorn considered him a friend. He'd tried to be polite to him and not show his annoyance, but he hadn't thought he'd always been that successful. He'd expected the professor to see right through him. This _was _Horace Slughorn though; he didn't really pay much attention to what people said, only to who they were.

"I always get a little group of some of my best students together for dinner and conversation every so often," Slughorn continued, ignoring the strange noises coming from Harry. "You must join us in September, and it'd be wonderful if you could come too, Harry. I've got a few students who could go quite far who you might be quite interested in meeting. "

"Yeah, sounds good," Harry said, forcing a grin, although he had no intention of going. He didn't think he could get through a whole evening with his old professor. In fact, he didn't think he could spend another minute with him now; his sucking-up was so nauseating. "It's been great catching up, Professor, but do you think I could just go and get some supplies and show Hermione how to brew something?"

"Oh yes, of course," Slughorn said. "I'll be very interested to see how it turns out, although having one of the best Aurors in the Ministry helping you out might be a bit of a cheat," he chuckled, winking at Hermione. "We're just brewing a simple giggling potion; something fun for the end of term!"

Harry quickly brought the supplies and a cauldron back to their desk and opened the book so Hermione could read the instructions (and so he could refresh his memory; there was never any need for an Auror to make anyone start giggling uncontrollably).

"Right, so the first thing we need to do is to finely chop the rose stems," he said, dividing them into two piles and demonstrating.

Hermione took the knife from him, and after studying the instructions for a few minutes, got to work, producing a neat pile on the desk.

"Hey, well done, Hermione," Harry said approvingly. He was amazed that Hermione had managed to do it so well on her first try. It'd taken him until about third year to cut his ingredients even half as neatly as she had. She _was _amazingly bright though, and he knew how she was about getting everything neat and perfect. He looked on as she gathered both their piles together and put them in the cauldron, measured out the glumbumble syrup and mixed them together, counting aloud as she stirred. Harry could only watch her; it was fascinating to see her take to it like a natural. Besides, he had a feeling that if he tried to help, he'd be met with the same reaction as when he tried to help her cook: being elbowed out of the way.

"Ok," she said, looking up at him and blowing her hair out of her face, "give me your rose thorns."

"Thorns?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, I need to put them in now," she told him.

"I haven't got any," he said, looking at the textbook. "I didn't know I needed to save them."

"Harry," she exclaimed exasperatedly. "It says right here, two steps below adding the stems. Did you not read the whole page before you started?"

Harry shook his head, blushing. Not only was Hermione doing amazingly well at brewing her first potion, but she was actually showing him up! If she wasn't his girlfriend, he'd be getting very annoyed with her right now. He felt a bit stupid though; he was an Auror. He was meant to be N.E.W.T. level in potions and here he was, messing up their attempt at a simple Giggling Potion. Feeling embarrassed, he managed to scrape up a few thorns from the table and put them into the cauldron, before leaving Hermione to stir it again while he looked at the instructions again.

"Sorry," she mumbled from over the cauldron. "I didn't mean to get annoyed with you then. I just want to impress Professor Slughorn. Can you crush the alihotsy leaf?"

"I know," he said. "It's fine. I should've read through everything first, especially considering it's your first time brewing a potion. If something had gone wrong, I wouldn't have even seen it coming. You know, Hermione, you're doing really well. I didn't think you'd get the hang of it so quickly."

"Neither did I," she admitted, adding the leaf and returning to his side as she left the potion to simmer. "I got a bit nervous again when we came in here; it looked really complicated with all the different ingredients and tools and everything, but I just decided to throw myself into it and go for it. That's the best way to do everything here, I think. That's how I'm going to get the most out of all this. There's no point in being nervous and doing things half-heartedly, is there? I'm not going to learn anything that way."

"You're completely right," Harry agreed. "I wish we'd had you with us in school. We might've been inspired by your attitude and been a little less lazy. Although," he laughed, "probably not, actually. You know, it might sound weird, but I think you're actually really lucky to be coming here now at your age. You'll appreciate it more than we did, I think. All we were interested in was sneaking out of the dorms and having a laugh, not doing schoolwork."

"I suppose I _am _lucky," Hermione nodded. "I mean, I don't want to show off, but I've always been a hard worker, but being older, it means I can do more. For example, the first years can learn the lists of ingredients for certain potions, but I can go to the library and find out things like why those ingredients are put in those potions and other uses for them and actually _enjoy _doing it, while they'll want to sit around and chat in the evenings, because that's what eleven year olds do. You think I'm mad, don't you?" she laughed.

"Well, a bit," Harry grinned. "You're great though, Hermione, really great. I never expected you to get so enthusiastic over potions. Merlin knows, I never did!"

"I didn't expect myself to, either," Hermione said. "This morning, I didn't think I was going to like it here half as much as it turns out I do. You were right, Harry; it's amazing here. I'm actually really excited for September! Now, where's that Shrivelfig?"

...

After the class, in which Slughorn had declared their potion 'a triumph,' Harry and Hermione decided it was time to leave, before Rebecca had Harry's flat surrounded by the police.

"You know," Hermione grumbled, "you could've told Professor Slughorn that I did a lot of work on our potion. I think he thought you did the whole thing by yourself."

"Well, you've seen what he's like. Even if I _had _said something, he wouldn't have believed me. It just would've been, 'you're too modest, Harry m'boy. Do you remember that time in sixth year when you made such-and-such a potion?' I think the class would've hated me if I'd made Slughorn talk all through their lunch hour."

"Don't be silly; they all think you're some kind of God," Hermione teased. "I suppose I'll just have to try and impress him myself in September. You'll have to help me practice over the summer. You'll have to go over my spells with me too; I can't walk in on the first day not knowing how to do them."

"It doesn't matter; no one else- But yeah, of course I will," Harry said as Hermione folded her arms stubbornly.

"It's like I said earlier; I want to make a proper go of this, Harry," she reminded him. "This morning I just wanted to get through school here, but now, I actually want to do really well. Can we get my wand tomorrow? And my books? And a cauldron?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. She was like an excited child; he had the feeling that she would've been exactly the same if she'd gone to Hogwarts when she was eleven. He was glad she'd taken that attitude, especially considering her doubts earlier, which she'd tried to hide, but he'd still noticed. He'd been worried when he went to her house that even though she'd been calmer than she had been the previous night, she was going to change her mind and not want to come at all. Ever since she'd managed to get up the first staircase though, he'd known she was going to be fine.

"Yes, we'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Now come on, take my arm. We need to go to Rebecca's."

...

They arrived in Hermione's living room with a pop, and after Hermione had taken a few minutes to recover again, they set off to Rebecca's house. Luckily, it was only around the corner, as they only had five minutes before she carried out her threat. Harry didn't think it was anything serious really; she wouldn't actually do it, surely. She knew him. She knew he wasn't some kind of psychopath.

They reached her house and Harry went to walk up the path, but Hermione pulled him back.

"I have a better idea," she said in a low voice, before whispering in his ear.

...

Rebecca looked at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. Five to twelve. Hermione wasn't coming; she was always early for everything. She'd known all morning that her friend wasn't going to come though. It wasn't possible for someone to get to Scotland and back in just a few hours, although Harry probably hadn't even taken her to Scotland anyway. He'd probably just told her that as part of his plan so she wouldn't be able to give away where they were going and they couldn't be found. It was strange that she seemed to believe him though. What had he done to her? And what was he planning on doing to her? Rebecca just couldn't believe it; she'd really liked Harry when she'd met him at the party.

She _had _been really drunk though, she realised with a sigh. Why couldn't she have behaved more responsibly and kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary? Instead, she'd just stumbled up to him and told him that she thought he was nice. In fact, that was the only time she'd ever spoken to him. She was so _stupid _to form an opinion of someone who'd probably only spoken about ten words to her. There must have been some signs or clues that he was some kind of nutjob, but she'd missed them. After all, he was friends with that Luna girl and there was something strange about her. The rest of his friends had seemed nice enough though, especially George, although he was probably in on it too, whatever 'it' actually was. She felt like such an idiot; she'd got to know George really well – she'd even thought she quite fancied him for days afterwards- but she must've got it terribly wrong.

She should never have let Hermione talk her into just letting her go. She should've phoned the police last night. She should've gone round to Hermione's house and checked on her, or brought her to stay in her spare room. She should've ignored her and told Catherine. Catherine would've known what to do; she dealt with that kind of thing for a living. She might have been a little fazed by the whole witch thing, being as funny about that kind of thing as she was, but she was a professional. She shouldn't have thought she could handle Hermione and her stubborn nature on her own; she'd never managed it before.

"Honestly, Bec, why are you so completely brainless sometimes? Or all the time, even. What have you let happen?" she asked herself angrily.

Digging through piles of papers that she'd planned to work on, before she'd realised she was too worried to, Rebecca eventually managed to find the phone. She had a horrible feeling that it was too late to call the police, but she had to do something. She was just about to dial the number when a loud _crack _behind her made her jump out of her skin. Turning round, she was met with the sight of a smiling Harry and a very smug-looking Hermione.

"Hermione," she sobbed, tears that had been threatening to come all morning finally spilling. "You're OK! But, but, wait. How did you get in?"

"Magic," her friend said simply, before she and Harry disappeared and reappeared closer to her to prove her point.

"_Magic?_ But it doesn't make any sense. Harry's a maniac. He made all that up!"

"Thanks, Rebecca," Harry said drily. "It's not made up, I can assure you."

"No, it's not," Hermione told her. " Bec, I really am a witch. Sit down and we'll explain, properly this time."


	9. Chapter 9

**I know, I know - it's been ages! I've been away for various reasons and then even when I came back with some other fics, I struggled to get back into this one! Still, I hope you enjoy what I've got here. I'm very nervous about it actually, so please be kind!**

**And those of you who've reviewed saying you don't really like the direction the story's going in, sorry, but that's how it _is _going. I know what I'm doing though (mostly!) so just trust me!**

* * *

_"Hermione," Rebecca sobbed, tears that had been threatening to come all morning finally spilling. "You're OK! But, but, wait. How did you get in?"_

_"Magic," her friend said simply, before she and Harry disappeared and reappeared closer to her to prove her point._

_"Magic? But it doesn't make any sense. Harry's a maniac. He made all that up!"_

_"Thanks, Rebecca," Harry said drily. "It's not made up, I can assure you."_

_"No, it's not," Hermione told her. " Bec, I really am a witch. Sit down and we'll explain, properly this time."_

* * *

Harry had got very used to people collapsing onto sofas and looking frightened whenever he spoke to them over the past few days. It was Rebecca's turn this time, and he was just waiting for her to regain her voice and accept that what he'd just said was true. She moved forwards in her seat and licked her lips, ready to speak.

"Get out," she croaked.

"W-what?" Harry stammered, surprised. No one had reacted like that before.

"Get out," she repeated. "Not you, Hermione. You stay here with me, but that, that, - I don't know _what _he is – of yours needs to go!"

"But, Bec, he's helping me!"

"I don't know what his plan is, but he's not a wizard. He's insane! I should ring Catherine."

"No!" Hermione shouted, the force of her anger making everything on the shelves next to her shake.

Harry pressed gently on Hermione's shoulders and sat her down next to Rebecca. It wouldn't do to have her accidentally wreck Rebecca's house, even though it might help them convince her they were telling the truth.

"Rebecca," he said, trying to stay calm as to not scare her further. That's all she was: scared. "I appeared out of thin air. I changed the colour of your walls to lime green. I organised the papers on your desk alphabetically just by pointing my wand at them. How do you explain all that if I'm not a wizard?"

Rebecca was stunned back into silence again and assumed what Harry called the "Taking it in position" on her chair again. She wasn't quiet for very long though, as she suddenly reached forward and grabbed a heavy lamp from her desk.

"Get out," she said, rising from her chair.

If Hermione hadn't told him so many stories about her friend, Harry would've laughed at the sight of the tiny woman wielding a huge lump of brass, thinking she wouldn't have the strength to swing it. He knew better than that though; she could probably do some serious damage with it. He took out his wand to transfigure it into something less dangerous, but realised his mistake as she saw it and lunged forwards.

"Don't point that thing at me," she screamed.

"Harry, put it away," Hermione begged him. "You're scaring her more."

She took the lamp from Rebecca and put it out of the smaller girl's reach.

""Look, Bec, I'm really sorry I told you. You have to believe me though; you've seen proof now, and we really _have _ been to Scotland."

Rebecca shook her head stubbornly, but couldn't seem to find any words.

The thing is though, Hermione," Harry said slowly, knowing she wouldn't like what was coming, "Rebecca _doesn't _have to believe us. In fact, she shouldn't even know. There are laws against muggles knowing about us. Admittedly, things are less strict now than they were before the war: relatives and partners can know but friends can't, so Rebecca still can't know about any of this."

"But I _do _know," Rebecca piped up, the anger in her voice now replaced with fear. "I've seen you do magic. What happens to me now then?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione open her mouth to speak, but he looked at her and shook his head. He knew Hermione couldn't help herself and was going to say something along the lines of 'so you _do _believe us then,' and now really wasn't the time. Not only was it slightly annoying when his girlfriend knew she was right (although he was becoming more accepting of it as their relationship progressed), he didn't want Rebecca getting herself in a muddle thinking about it. It would just make it even trickier for him to perform the charm.

"I'm going to have to make you forget," Harry said.

"How?" Rebecca and Hermione asked in unison.

"I'll just cast a quick spell to make you forget everything we just talked about," he explained, trying to make sure he didn't say anything to scare her even more. "I'll just remove this conversation from your memory, and the one you had with Hermione last night. I promise it's quick and painless; you won't even know I've done it."

"You're not doing any magic on me," Rebecca protested, looking around the desk for something else to wield at Harry.

Harry looked towards Hermione, hoping that she could talk to Rebecca and calm her down enough for him to perform the charm. She wouldn't meet his gaze though, just looked at her friend and shook her head.

"I don't want you to cast a spell on her," Hermione told him.

"It won't harm her, I promise. I do these all the time at work; nothing can go wrong."

"I know. I trust you. It's just, turning your hair a funny colour and making cushions move is all very well. In fact, it's quite fun. I don't like that you can do something like erase memories though. It's dangerous, and it's dishonest. I've never lied to Rebecca about anything, or kept anything from her. If you cast this spell, I'll have to keep secrets from her and lie about where I'm going and what I'm doing. Please don't do it. She won't tell."

Harry shook his head. Why had he not mentioned to Hermione that she had to keep it a secret? He'd thought it would've gone without saying that muggles didn't and couldn't know about the wizarding world, but he shouldn't have taken anything for granted. He had to undo this, before everyone got into serious trouble.

"I'm sorry," he told the two girls, who were now sat together, Rebecca's face buried in Hermione's shoulder. "It's the law. We could all get in serious trouble if I don't do this. And Rebecca, I don't want to scare you, but if I don't do this now, someone else will and they won't give you warning or time to prepare. They'll just come here and do it. It's better if it's me."

Rebecca let out a muffled sob into Hermione's jacket. It was strange and upsetting for Hermione to see Rebecca like this. Rebecca didn't ever get scared or cry. Rebecca was fearless and confident; she was always the one who looked after them in their little group. What made it worse was that Hermione knew that it was all her fault that her friend was in this state. If she'd just kept her mouth shut, things would've stayed exactly the same. Even once the spell was done (it was inevitable that it would happen, however much she protested), their relationship would be awkward, at least on her end. Rebecca wouldn't know anything had happened, but she would. She'd always be guilty that she allowed her friend's memories to be tampered with, and there'd always be something between them that they wouldn't be able to talk about. Rebecca just wouldn't know it.

"Harry, if you have to do this, then you have to. I'm sorry, Bec. But Harry, after you've erased her memory, I'd like you to do mine too. I don't know how far back you'll want to go. I'd like us to still be together, but if you want to go back further, I'll understand; I know _I _wouldn't be able to be so close to someone and keep something this big from them."

"It's not safe for you to carry on the way you have been, Hermione. You nearly killed Angelina."

"You did?" Rebecca asked, perking up for a moment. "Good for you!"

"It wasn't on purpose!" Hermione protested. "It was an accident."

"Don't spoil it for me," Rebecca smirked. "But seriously, Mione. If you _did _nearly kill someone with magic, you need to get it under control. I don't mind if it happens to someone like Angelina, but if I end up on the receiving end of it for leaving my milk out or something...well, that's less fun. Don't get rid of your memories of this. You know you can trust me though. I promise I won't say anything."

"I know," Hermione smiled. "I don't want Harry to do this to you either. Like he said though, it's the law. Please don't hate me, Bec. I love you to pieces."

Rebecca's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to argue; she'd obviously thought she'd convinced her friend to stop Harry from casting the spell. Harry, sensing a chance, grabbed his wand and –

_Obliviate_

Rebecca's eyes went out of focus for a moment, making Hermione gasp and clutch her friend's arm.

"Bec? Are you ok?" she asked, panicked.

After a second, she looked like the Rebecca that Hermione knew and answered.

"Yes, fine. I felt a bit funny for a moment then."

"Maybe you're a bit warm. You were just saying how hot it was in here," Harry said, looking at Hermione, hoping she'd catch on to the cover story.

"Yes, why doesn't Harry go and find that ice cream you mentioned might be good for cooling us all down?" she added.

* * *

After they'd left Rebecca eating her third bowl of ice cream (Hermione always marvelled at how her friend could eat so much and yet stay so slim), Hermione asked to be taken home.

"Walked, not apparated back please," she insisted. "I'm not as in love with the magical world as I was this morning. I can't believe they expect us to keep things from our close friends. She wore herself out from crying in there, but if she ever finds out I've lied to her, she won't be that calm. She'll never speak to me again."

"We'll be extra careful from now on," he promised her. "I know it seems hard now, but as horrible as it sounds, you'll get used to it."

It was easy for him to say; he didn't have any muggle friends to keep things from. Hermione looked drained, and he was seriously worried after she'd asked him to erase her memory too that she'd still decide she wanted nothing to do with the whole business.

"I'll take you to Diagon Alley for supplies tomorrow," he told her. "You'll love it."

Hermione smile seemed a little strained, but she didn't protest. As they arrived at her front gate, he gave her a quick kiss and left without saying anything more; he didn't want to talk too much in case he said something to change her mind about everything.

* * *

"You're late back," Dean remarked when Harry finally got home.

Harry nodded. He'd walked instead of apparating in case Hermione heard the crack and got scared.

"Yeah. Long, difficult day," he sighed, sinking into a chair and summoning a butterbeer. "What?" he asked, noticing Dean was staring at him.

"Well? How did it go? At the school?"

It took Harry a minute to realise what Dean was talking about. The meeting with McGonagall seemed like days ago.

"Oh yeah. She's a witch. She's going to Hogwarts for three years."

"I thought you'd be a little happier about that," Dean said. "Anyway, I have good news too. We have a third flatmate for a bit. He's upstairs sleeping at the moment, but he'll be down in an hour or so I should think."

"George?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yeah! He's only gone and done it! Well, half done it; he told Angelina he wanted to 'take a break', but I think we all know it's practically over."

"What made him do it?"

"Well, he hasn't said too much, but I think he's still thinking about Rebecca."


End file.
